


and there's a hunger in me, a hunger in you

by Forever_in_Your_Heart



Series: pin all your hopes on me [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate 74th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Tribute Gale, Tribute Madge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_in_Your_Heart/pseuds/Forever_in_Your_Heart
Summary: the odds were never in anyone’s favour. but there’s a fire in him and a fire in her and maybe it’s time the capitol learned to burn
Relationships: Gale Hawthorne/Madge Undersee
Series: pin all your hopes on me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790764
Comments: 53
Kudos: 206





	1. ghosts and dust

Madge never expects to be reaped.

The fear is always there of course, but Gale Hawthorne is right. There are only five slips bearing her name; she is never going to the Capitol. It isn’t fair, none of it is, but the odds are in her favour.

Except there’s a mockingjay pin on her chest that says no, the odds are in no one's favour.

“Madge Undersee!”

The pin is right.

* * *

Is she breathing? It doesn’t feel like it. The crowd parts around her until she is standing alone. “Madge Undersee!” Effie Trinket calls out again, the excitement tempered with impatience. “Come along, come along!”

Gentle hands push at her back and her legs take unsteady steps. She walks, walks and walks past a district of strangers until she reaches the stage. She cannot breathe and a whisper races through the crowd.  _ The mayor’s daughter. The mayor’s daughter was reaped. _ It is disbelief and fear and maybe a little satisfaction. He has never suffered like they have, now he does. Madge climbs the steps and doesn’t look at her father. Neither of them will survive it if she does. Effie beckons her forward, her fuschia lips stretched in a pert little smile. There is a bird perched in the curling tower of her hair, a bird with golden feathers and diamond eyes. Madge stares at it and feels her fingers twitch. The bird over her heart glints in the sunlight and if she dies, her family will never survive it. They need her to come home. If she dies, they are ruined.

“Now let’s see what brave young man will be joining our Magde!” Effie trills and Madge stares at the crowd without seeing anyone. She is theirs, she supposes she always was. There is blood in her mouth, she is sure she can taste it, and maybe she should get used to that.

“Gale Hawthorne!” 

Someone screams, someone small and terrified, and Madge wonders how the odds could be so, so against her. She still can’t see anyone else, but she can see Gale, tall and proud as he marches to the stage. No one pushes him on, no one needs to. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are almost black in their rage, and still, someone very young is screaming. He stands beside her and she is probably going to die, she knows that but already desperation is shrieking in her blood. She is going to try. She is going to fight. She doesn’t want to die, she wants to come home and it just had to be Gale Hawthorne of all people. 

“Shake hands,” Effie hisses and Gale is a hurricane just waiting to blow her away. His grip is tight, his palm sweaty and Madge can’t stop herself from whispering, “I guess it was a good thing I wore this dress after all.”

Gale drops her hand so fast it’s like he’s been burned.

“And here they are,” Effie cheers, her nails in their shoulders as she turns them back to the audience. “Your tributes for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games!”

She claps alone.

* * *

They have an hour to say goodbye and her father is her only visitor. 

Her mother is sick in bed, there is no sweetheart who loves her and her only friend certainly wants Gale to win instead of her. Her father stays the entire hour (the mayor does get certain privileges) and Madge tries to convince herself that Katniss would have come if she were able. If her father didn’t swallow the whole hour, Katniss would’ve certainly come to say goodbye. 

(and deep down, she thinks maybe it’s a kindness her father never leaves)

There is a knock on the door, her hour is up and her father kisses her forehead with tears on his cheeks. “I love you,” he says and his hands shake as he holds her.

“I love you too,” she says and there should be something else, but she cannot think of it. This might be it, the final time she’ll ever see him and “Tell Mama I love her too.” 

The words seem weak, don’t seem enough but there are none left to say. She loves them, she loves them, and this is the end.

“Time’s up,” says a voice, strangely kind for a peacekeeper’s voice, and her father stands on trembling legs.

“I love you,” he says again and if love were enough to save her, well Gale would still have better odds. There are far more people that love him.

* * *

The car ride is silent, or at least she and Gale are silent. Effie talks loudly, too loudly and the car can barely contain all she says. Madge doesn’t listen to her words, instead she stares soundlessly out a window at the faces of District Twelve. Old and young, but every one haunted, the people of Twelve stand alongside the road with mourning already heavy upon them. They have no hope for her or for Gale. To Twelve, they are already dead. 

They’re probably right.

Madge tries to remember how to breathe and this could be her last chance to take it all in. Twelve isn’t beautiful, isn’t anything but dusty and sad, but it’s still home. 

“And here we are! Oh, you’ll love this!” Effie says in that high, sprightly voice that sinks below Madge’s skin and ties her nerves in knots. Effie keeps talking, cannot stop, and Madge doesn't look back at the place she is leaving behind. She doubts she'll be coming back.

She wants to, she wants to so badly it's tearing her in half, but she knows she probably won’t. She is going to die but she’s going to fight anyway.

The Capitol doesn’t deserve her surrender.

* * *

The train is luxurious, truly, and Madge knows she should relish it. She is most probably going to die, she might already be dead, she should at least enjoy what time they have left her. She can’t. The Capitol has killed her and she will not accept their gifts. She sits in an over-plump armchair, the velvet making her skin crawl. Gale sits beside her, a fire burning in and around him. 

“Where the fuck is Abernathy?” he demands of the room though not of her she is sure and Madge stares straight ahead at a crystalline lion roaring on a side table. 

“Wherever the bar is,” she says because if she is going to die, she will not worry about angering him. He already hates her, what else can he do?

(kill her)

“Fuck,” Gale spits and she nods. Haymitch is their only hope; perhaps she’ll step off the platform and give herself a quick and easy death. Except of course she won’t. She is going to die but she doesn’t want to, she wants to live and live and live. She is sixteen, she wants to grow up and see her family again, see Katniss again. She doesn't want her blood to quench the Capitol’s thirst. And maybe, she thinks suddenly, maybe she should throw away her life, ruin the spectacle the depraved audience in the Capitol wants so terribly. Maybe she should make it boring and awful, because if she is going to die, why should she die in a way that pleases them? Maybe, but she doesn’t want to die. She will, she knows that, but she is going to fight anyway.

She’s not sure she’s capable of anything else.

“And here he is!” Effie says in a voice crackling with strain. She ushers a swaying, bloodshot Haymitch into the room, his hands full with bottle and glass of brown liquid. Gale shoots to his feet and perhaps sensing a confrontation, Effie retreats to where she’d come from. Haymitch flops into a chair and drains his glass. He tips the bottle to refill it, but never gets the chance. Gale snatches the bottle from him and hurls it across the room. It breaks against the wall, liquor staining the plush blue carpet.

“The fuck is wrong with you? You’re the only mentor we have, you need to get your shit together. You want to drink yourself to death? Fine, but not today. I have people I want to go home to, I’m not going to let you kill me.”

Haymitch looks up at him and there is something in his gaze she cannot explain. He turns those unreadable eyes on her and Gale looks at her with his own and it is clear he is waiting for backup. The odds weren’t in her favour and Gale Hawthorne is relying on her. What a day this is. Madge stands and she could scream, she could yell, but doesn’t. Haymitch came home when her aunt didn’t and she wonders if he remembers that.

“We deserve better,” she says and they all do, everyone does.

* * *

She goes to her room, presses her face into the pillow and screams.

* * *

“You have such lovely table manners, not like last year’s tributes. Ooo, it was awful, they were like wild animals.”

Gale clenches his knife and she wishes he’d throw it in Effie’s face. Madge puts down her own, the food no longer appetizing. 

“They were starving,” Gale says and there is so much rage in him. There is rage in her too, but it does not blaze like his. It smolders. Effie’s eyes widen, the paste over her skin can’t quite hide the colour rising in her cheeks and she purses her lips. Before anyone can say anything else, Haymitch stumbles into the room and bumps into the table. The dishes rattle, Effie squeaks in disapproval and Madge’s butter knife slides from her plate onto the table cloth. It is white, pristine and a stain starts to form. Good.

“Thanks for joining us,” Gale snarls and Haymitch lands heavily in a chair. He pulls a flask from his coat, pours half in his coffee mug and gives Gale an unimpressed look.

“You want my advice on how to survive? Make them love you. That’s how you get home. I don’t know why, but I see you struggling with that.” Haymitch’s tone is catty, Gale scowls and Madge feels another noose settling around her neck. Make them love you. Gale has the ability to do that, he has friends, has turned so many girls’ heads, he must know how to make people like you. Madge has one friend and they prefer Gale. The odds really aren’t in her favour. 

He is handsome too, impossibly handsome. The Capitol loves that.

“Also water, water is important,” Haymitch says and drinks from his mug of mostly alcohol with perhaps a dash of coffee. His gray eyes stay on Gale and she can understand that. Out of the two of them, Gale is the one with the best chance of winning. He is handsome, can surely be charming, is tall and eighteen and strong and knows how to survive. He can hunt, creep through the woods, set traps and snares. He is used to being hungry and that fire of his, it’s fierce. Madge is none of those things. She is the mayor's daughter in her "pretty" dress, she has never gone hungry. Haymitch knows he can’t save them both, so of course he’s picked Gale. It hurts, it makes her angry enough she tightens her hands into fists, but she doesn’t blame him. 

She is no victor.

But then Haymitch’s eyes stray to her and they are her mother’s eyes. There is the hint of recognition and then anger and dismay and misery. She is not her aunt, but she is enough like her to cut everyone else up. Haymitch stares at the pin on her chest and he’s torn, isn’t he? Gale is the tribute he might actually be able to bring home, but she is a second chance to save an ally he had to hold as she died. 

She is not a ghost, but if it helps her survive, she’ll haunt Haymitch for the rest of his life.

* * *

The Capitol appears beyond their window and Gale refuses to look. Effie waxes on and on about its beauty, Haymitch helps himself to her wine while she isn’t looking and Gale stares intensely at a wall. His shoulders shake and though he doesn’t say a word, she knows the thought he’s screaming in his head.

_ fuck the Captiol _

Madge does look at the Capitol, at all its shiny buildings and beautiful parks and he’s right.

_ fuck the Capitol _

* * *

The beauty team pulls and plucks and primps, strips her away and builds someone new in her place. “Such pretty skin,” they coo even as they wash it and scrub it and bury it in lotions. Madge is silent throughout. She has always been quiet and they do not deserve her words. Her time is running out and she will not waste what few breaths she has left on them.

* * *

Her stylist is a man named Agrippa and his eyes make her twitch. He is tall, narrow and his spiky hair sparkles. There are coloured stars painted on the sides of his face and bright orange smeared across his eyelids. He walks around her in a circle, hmms as he sweeps his gaze over her every inch and strokes his pointy green beard. 

“Pretty,” he says finally, “but not beautiful.” 

Madge’s cheeks burn and she doesn’t say anything because she is supposed to be making them love her. The words in her head definitely wouldn’t.

“Still, I can work with this. Take off your robe,” he says and all his teeth are silver. A lesser shade than Gale’s eyes and she can’t have heard him right. She is nauseous and Agrippa tuts.

“Off,” he says again and reaches for the belt at her waist. She jerks back and knocks into a table, the tray on top clattering to the floor. Agrippa sighs.

“Look sweetie, I don’t know if you understand this, but you’re from the worst district there is. No one cares about District Twelve, why should they? You’re all nothing. I’m only here because I’m new. They make us start on the lowest rung and work our way up. I’m going to work my way up. And to do that, I’m going to make you shine. Now take off the robe.”

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want him to see her naked. Maybe it shouldn’t matter; considering everything else, does nudity really matter? It’s just skin. If she can show her legs, her arms, why not her stomach? Chest? Why not her-

There is no choice really. Every bit of her, every inch, it belongs to the Capitol, it always has. This is the game, these are the rules and if she wants to go home, this is how she has to play. It doesn’t matter, it’s just skin. It’s just skin. Madge closes her eyes and unties the belt. She shrugs off the robe and it doesn’t matter. Home is waiting for her and what does the fear in her stomach matter? The Capitol likes glamorous tributes in racy costumes. She needs them to love her. It’s just skin.

“You should eat more, it’ll give you a better figure,” Agrippa says and Madge would laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this.

_ fuck the Capitol _

* * *

Madge is cold as she’s led to their chariot.

She is wearing nothing but paint and sparkles and she is cold. Swirls of black and grey cover her from toes to hair line, dusted with a soft sheen of gold that glimmers in the light. She is coal, the heart of District Twelve and is the gold meant to represent fire? Or is it a hint that beneath the dust, there is something wonderful to be found? She doesn’t know, she doesn’t ask and she tries not to think about the fact that she is naked on national television. They haven’t let her keep anything for herself. 

She shivers and her bare feet step quickly over the chilly ground. Her hair seems out of place, pulled into a bun at the top of her head and not painted any colour at all. She is still blonde and that doesn’t match her costume at all. She wears a thin crown of wires and Agrippa had smiled smugly as he’d placed it on her head. It has a purpose she assumes, but she doesn't bother to ask him. He is too proud, she doesn’t want to stroke his ego.

Madge avoids making eye contact with any of the other tributes and refuses to imagine what they might think of her. They don’t matter. It’s the Capitol that must love her, not them. She is still cold and District 12’s chariot is the farthest away, but she finally reaches it. The same wires as her crown are strung all around its edges and she frowns. What could they be for? 

“Good, you’re both here. Up, up!” Effie says and Madge has to turn. Gale is standing there and Madge refuses to look any lower than his chest. He is painted just like she is, he sports the same crown but he wears the entire ensemble better. His black hair blends in perfectly and so do the silver of his eyes. The golden shine accentuates the line of his jaw and the Capitol is going to love him. She is pretty but not beautiful. Gale is magnificent. 

They climb up, stand as far apart as the little chariot allows and Madge is grateful he never once looks at her. She wants to clutch the rim of the chariot but Agrippa had cryptically told her to keep her hands inside at all times. They are restless though and she hooks her thumbs together to keep them steady. District One’s chariot begins to move and soon the procession has begun, the fanfare loud and deafening. There are thousands of eyes on them and the citizens that can’t wait to see them die scream as they roll by.

Madge isn’t sure she breathes at all.

Halfway down the parade ground, the wires on the chariot burst into light, into flames, orange, red and yellow. Madge gasps and so does everyone around them, thousands and thousands of voices caught together. But it isn’t just the chariot. Fire flickers in the corner of her eye and when she turns her head, she sees Gale’s crown is just as ablaze. Hers must be too and the roar of the crowd rises louder louder until the very air shakes with it. Madge looks at Gale as he burns and it suits him so well, for he is a fire, he has always been made of flames.

And in this moment, with the Capitol pressing in on every side, she thinks she might be a fire too.

Gale is rigid and cold to the crowd but Madge lifts her hand and waves, because she needs all the help she can get. There are ashes on her tongue, but survival must always cost in Panem. Gale’s jaw tenses when she blows a kiss and maybe she hates him too. 

They are enemies now, just like he’s always wanted them to be.

* * *

Effie is delighted, so delighted in fact she forces them to watch the parade after they’ve returned to their rooms. Haymitch is considerate enough to let them put something on first.

They sit on the couch and Effie is right to be delighted. The other tributes trundle by, some looking good, some awful but it is their chariot that eclipses them all. The flames are stunning, their light catching the golden dust on their skin and making them shine just as Agrippa’d said she would. The blonde of her hair blends well with the fire of her crown and it is obvious the crowd is enraptured. They are District Twelve’s coal set aflame and it is magnificent.

Gale looks like a conquering hero with his anger and disdain and Madge cannot believe the ethereal girl on the screen is her. They do not look like tributes, like people, they look like spirits peeking through the flames. Madge hates Agrippa, hates him, but she will give him this.

He has made the Capitol love them.

* * *

It takes her hours in the shower to wash herself clean.

The water never gets cold, not like it would if she were at home, and Madge scrubs every inch of skin. It is only skin and right now, it isn’t even hers. The water pools black beneath her feet and she thinks of Gale in his own shower across the hall. This is a boon to both their chances at winning. The Capitol loves them at first (or technically second) sight and though all of this leaves her sick, she knows they are at least one step closer to going home.

They love them both, love her even though they know nothing about her, and she must capitalize on that.

Madge scrubs her skin until it bleeds.

* * *

Haymitch’s advice for training is simple. “Give them nothing.” Nothing, nothing, nothing, make them underestimate you, make them unsure of what you can do and unable to plan against you. This must be directed at Gale, for she has nothing to give. Unless the Games involve playing the piano, she has nothing. She isn’t strong, she isn’t a hunter, she has no skills she can show off and leave people in awe. If she’s going to make it out of this, she’s going to have to use her head. Cunning, clever, smart, that’s what she’ll have to be. She isn’t a fighter, so she’ll be a survivor.

Madge goes from station to station alone and Gale does whatever he likes, but they do nothing together. They have not spoken once since she answered his question about Haymitch on the train, but she supposes that isn’t a surprise. He hates her, he’s always hated her and now he might have to kill her. Now is the worst time to make friends. 

Madge is used to being lonely and she focuses exclusively on the survival skills. Mostly she studies the plants, the safe ones, the poisonous ones, the ones that heal. She ties knots and climbs things, neither very well but she does it again and again until she’s at least passable. She focuses on how to make shelter, on how to recognize infection and how to fight frostbite. She tries to memorize what signs mean water is unsafe to drink and then circles back to the plants. She knows they will be her greatest asset.

Gale catches everyone’s eye, but of course he does. She is quiet, she is nothing special, no one looks at her and thinks  _ threat _ . Gale is different. He is the tallest tribute, he is strong, he is eighteen and though he follows Haymitch’s advice, everything he does is precise and careful and determined. The fury in his eyes helps too.

Funny that they can’t see the same fury in hers.

* * *

“You need a strategy,” Haymitch tells her and she knows that. If she wants to win sponsors, she has to have something that sets her apart and makes them love her. But what? 

“Everyone loves a legacy,” she says and Haymitch looks very far away as he sits beside her. He nods.

“They do, bring that up. Specifically that you want to honour her and make her proud and be just like her. You’ve always wanted to.”

She wonders what her mother will think if she hears that lie, but maybe she won’t. Maybe she won’t even watch. 

“And keep thinking. The more weapons in your arsenal, the more targets you hit.”

* * *

Madge doesn’t bother to learn the other tributes' names. 

That would make everything worse. It seems hard to imagine that things could get any worse, but she knows they can. In the Hunger Games, things could always be worse. 

She learns their faces because it’s hard not to, but she tries very hard not to look at the little girl from Eleven, the youngest competitor who will have to die if Madge wants to see home. She’s twelve and if Madge looks at her, she knows her courage will fail. She needs to focus on herself, on her parents and home, and she won’t if she looks too long at Eleven. She is twelve, the Capitol shouldn’t be killing her.

Of course, the Capitol shouldn’t be killing any of them.

She avoids looking at the careers too, she doesn’t need the fear. They are deadly, they are cruel and they watch Gale with hungry eyes. He ignores them all and she thinks that only makes them more interested. She ties another knot and wonders if they’ll ask him to ally with them. It would be a good strategy she supposes, it might carry him very far indeed.

He won’t join them. There are some lines he could never cross and that’s one, she is sure of that. He’ll fight alone and so will she.

Hopefully the careers turn on each other quickly.

* * *

“They think you’re weak,” Gale says on their last day of training as she struggles to make a fire. His shoulder pushes against hers and days he hasn’t spoken to her and this is what he opens with.

“Easy pickings,” he says as if this is somehow news to her. She moves so they aren’t touching.

“Good. I don’t want them to come after me.”

He looks at her, stares at her, and she wonders if he’s trying to light her on fire with his eyes. If anyone could, it’d be him. 

“If you don’t get a good score in training, no one’s going to sponsor you,” he says and she wants to walk away from him but that might draw attention to herself. Fading into the background is the best skill she has.

“Thank you, I wasn’t aware how this worked,” she says and he snorts angrily.

“If you want to die-”

She turns to look at him and she is so angry she wants to hit him, hit him, hit him. She gets up and leaves and doesn’t care if people talk. She doesn’t need Gale Hawthorne to lecture her, Gale Hawthorne who is probably glad that of all the girls in Twelve, she was the one that was sent in with him. Of all of them, she is the one he will miss the least.

He is all she has left of home and isn’t that a tragedy.

* * *

Madge has no flashy skills, she knows this and Gale is right in that her score won’t win her any sponsors, but there’s not much she can do about it. Three days aren’t enough to make her a warrior, she will never be Gale. Katniss would have done better if she were here, but thankfully she isn’t. Madge doesn’t want to be here, but she’d rather be here than watch Katniss be here.

She and Gale probably have that in common.

They all sit together on the couch in their fancy penthouse to hear the scores, and thankfully Haymitch and Effie sit between her and Gale. Her score is sure to be dismal; she doesn’t need to see his reaction. 

“And now for District 12!” Caesar Flickerman and his very blue hair say. Effie shushes them even though no one had been making a sound.

“Gale Hawthorne...10!”

For a moment, the tension dissipates. The collective breath is released and Haymitch whistles low. 

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Effie cheers and Madge finds herself saying “Good job.” It comes out low and breathy and no one acts as if they heard it. Good.

“And finally, Madge Undersee...5.”

There is no enthusiasm this time. Effie mutters something despairing that sounds like “the things I am forced to work with” and Haymitch just nods like he expected as much. Well, he probably did. She certainly did. Thankfully, Gale says nothing.

“Alright, tomorrow it’s interview time. And I think you’re both going to need a lot of work,” Haymitch says and Gale makes a sound she would describe as a cross between a scoff and a snort. Effie simply releases a sad sort of moan like having to prepare them for their interviews is somehow worse than anything they’ll be forced to go through. 

“I should rest up then, I want to put my best face forward,” Madge says and sounds sincere but isn’t. Haymitch smiles in the corner of his mouth. She stands and Effie bobs her head, the butterfly wings in her hair trembling.

“An excellent idea. Maybe you’d like to do the same,” she says to Gale and he scowls. Effie recoils and Madge almost smiles. She makes her way to her room but in the hall between their two doorways, Gale catches up to her.

“Madge,” he says and has he ever said her name out loud? She thinks this might be the first time she’s heard it from him. Her stomach twists. 

“What? You want to give me a lecture?” she asks and turns even though sense says she should just retreat to her room. His posture is defensive and he is angry, but it’s hard to tell if it’s with her or everything else. Maybe both.

She is angry too, and this time, she does not let it smolder. She lets it burn the way his does.

“Before you say anything, I don’t want to die. I don’t. I’m sixteen, Gale, I want to grow up. I want to go home. I want to see my Mom and Dad again, I want to see Katniss again. I don’t want to die, okay? But I’m not you, I can’t wow them with my strength or my skills or anything else. You’ll win sponsors because you’re brave and handsome and a survivor. I have to make them love me, so I will. I hate them. I hate this place and these people, but I’ll lie and blow them kisses and say I love every single one of them. The Capitol has stolen my life, but if you think I plan to just lie down and let them, then you-well I’d say you don’t know me, but you don’t want to. And now you don’t have to.”

There is anger in her voice, tears in her eyes and the few feet between them feel like miles. He stares at her and she can’t explain the look in his eyes, but he looks and looks and looks. She wonders what he’s seeing.

“So? What do you want?” she demands and his breath goes in with a hiss.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“What?” is all she can think to say and there is static in her ears. Gale looks away.

“I said I don’t want you to die.”

Now Madge is the one staring, her heart caught in her ribs.

“But you need me to die,” she says and he laughs, but it is furious. He looks at her again with rage and misery and injustice and she can feel it in her bones.

“You don’t think I know that? Twenty three people have to die if I want to go home. You have to die and I know that. But I don’t want you to and I won’t be the one that kills you.” He is firm, he is conviction and none of this is fair.

“Why not?”

He looks at her for a long moment and shakes his head. Shakes it and closes his eyes and his shoulders lift with anger.

“I don’t know! Maybe because...because I know you or because you’re from home or because I can’t imagine going back to Twelve and passing your house and knowing I only can because you’re dead. Because you’re Katniss’ friend or because...because...I don’t know. I don’t know,” he repeats and then “Do you want me to die?”

Of course she doesn’t. They aren’t friends, they’ve never even gotten along, but she doesn’t want him to die. 

“No,” she says and he nods. 

“Why?”

“Because I don’t,” she says and he nods again.

“Yeah.”

They are quiet and she’s not sure there’s anything else to say. She doesn’t want him to die, he doesn’t want her to die, but in the end, at least one of them will have to. 

“Good luck, Gale,” she says and means it. His eyes hold hers and for the first time since this started, there is no anger there.

“Good luck, Madge.”

* * *

Madge lies in bed and her life is a tragedy.

Not just hers, everyone’s. Except hers will be played on live television for everyone to see. But they love that, the Capitol loves a good tragedy. 

Her eyes widen

They love a good tragedy. 

It’s tragic Gale doesn’t want her to die, tragic she doesn’t want him to die. It’s tragic and imagine how much more tragic it would be if they were friends, if they...if they were in love.

The Capitol loves a tragedy. The Capitol loves a romance.

The Capitol will surely love a tragic romance.

* * *

Madge lays out her plan to Haymitch and he looks at her with surprise in his eyes. 

“I think that’ll work,” he says and she thinks her lungs are shaking as she breathes. The more weapons you have, the more targets you hit and hopefully Haymitch knew what he was talking about. 

“You’ll tell Gale?” she asks and maybe she should, but she’s not sure she could. It’s one thing to tell him she’s going to lie, another to tell him just how she plans to lie. It shouldn’t matter, not really, only one of them can make it out, but she thinks it’ll matter to Gale. This could help both of them, but whatever else he is, he’s honest. 

“You don’t want to catch him off guard?” Haymitch jokes and she makes a noise that might almost be a laugh.

“He’d probably throw me off the balcony.”

“What, pretty girl like you? Shouldn’t he be pleased?”

Madge does laugh this time.

“You obviously don’t know Gale Hawthorne.”

* * *

Agrippa and his team make her beautiful for her interview. 

They paint her lips a deep rose, make her eyelashes long and dark and sweep her hair back into a loose bun, golden flowers holding it in place. Her gown is white but woven with faint silver thread and the fabric shimmers every time she moves. She totters in the tall shoes they give her, pale gold ribbons wrapped around her legs from ankle to knee. Her cheeks are pink and Effie coos in delight.

“Oh lovely, lovely! You’d never know you were from District Twelve.” 

She means it as a compliment and Madge wants to pull Effie’s star spangled hat from her head and stomp on it. 

Gale looks handsome, but of course he does. She’s not sure he could ever be anything else. His hair is slicked back, not one single strand out of place, his suit is deep, deep red and the shirt underneath is open enough to show off his collarbone and a hint of chest. He is thin, underfed, but she doubts they’ll notice that.

“Ooo, what a strapping young man you make,” Effie says and tries to smooth out the fabric at his shoulders. He flinches at her touch and backs out of reach. Effie purses her lips. Madge licks her own and she should ask him if they’re agreed on the plan for tonight. She’s going first, if they’re not on the same page she’ll come out looking like an idiot. She never gets the chance.

“Stop fussing,” Haymitch says as he comes into the room and Effie sniffs. “Let’s go, it’s time.”

Madge breathes deep and Gale’s eyes are heavy upon her. She looks over at him and he nods.

“Pretty dress.”

* * *

Madge walks out on stage with the happiest smile she can conjure. She waves at the crowd and shakes Caesar’s hand like her skin isn’t peeling back from him in horror. She sits in a flounce of shimmery skirts and beams at the people clapping and cheering, all the while hoping the ceiling will collapse and crush them all to death.

“Madge Undersee, I hear you’re the mayor’s daughter?” Caesar starts, his voice bright and friendly but he is not her friend. No one here is. 

“I am yes,” she says and each word is a jagged bit of glass in her throat. “I hope I can make him proud and all of Twelve too. I have a lot to live up to.”

Caesar’s eyebrow goes up, his smile quirks with interest and he’s very good at this. Hopefully she will be too.

“Oh?”

“Yes. My Aunt Maysilee was a tribute in the last Quarter Quell.” An excited shiver runs through the audience. Everyone loves a legacy. “She’s my inspiration, she always has been. She was brave and cunning and clever, I hope I can do her justice. I hope I can come home where she couldn’t. And I know she’ll be there with me, lending me her strength.”

Caesar nods with an impressed look. The audience applauds. 

“And who else is waiting back home for you? A special boy perhaps?” he asks and Madge ducks her head. 

“Oh no,” she says softly and Caesar pats her hand.

“I don’t believe that, pretty girl like you? There must be someone.”

“Not at home,” she says and the whole room breathes in at the implication. Madge tightens her fingers in the folds of her skirt, breathes deeply and then leans towards Caesar.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks and he nods eagerly.

“Of course.”

“I never thought I’d tell anyone this, but it’s now or never right?” She takes another deep breath, lets the anticipation mount and then says “There is a boy. He’s handsome and brave and loyal. He’s honest too and hardworking and so very caring. He stole my heart years ago, I’ve just never been brave enough to say anything.”

“And what’s his name?” Caesar asks and the whole room holds its breath. Madge smiles sadly, tragically and says the name they’ve all been waiting to hear.

“Gale Hawthorne.”

Caesar’s eyes widen, he wears the perfect mask of shock and dismay and the whole crowd shivers with the delightful horror of her secret. They devour it, feast on it and gasp in their surprise. Madge lets her smile tremble and wipes at her eyes even though there are no tears there. Caesar stands and gently pulls her to her feet.

“Our time is up. Madge Undersee!”

She waves again to the crowd and moves to the side with her fellow tributes. They ignored her in training but now they see her. By the hostility in their eyes, she would say they don’t like what they see. She knew they wouldn’t. Invisibility was a safety net, but survival needs more than that. She needs sponsors and maybe just maybe, she’s won some here.

“And now let’s welcome our final tribute, Gale Hawthorne!”

A sad sigh echoes through the room. Here he is, the boy that stole Madge’s heart, the other half of her tragedy. He carries it well. He shakes Caesar’s hand and the smile he offers is tight and strained. He sits and Madge prays he plays along. If he doesn’t, she is no longer tragic. She is embarrassing.

“Tell me, what do you think your odds are?” Caesar asks and Gale leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“Good. I know what I’m doing.” He is confident, he is firm and so it doesn’t come across as bravado. It sounds like the truth. An excited whisper laps around the audience. Caesar nods.

“And is there anyone back home waiting for you?”

“Yes. My mother, my brothers, my little sister. I promised them I’d come home, no matter what. And I intend to. They need me to.”

Gale loves his family and there is something raw in his voice when he speaks of them, something that touches her and she is sure everyone else listening. He is good at this. Caesar sighs with just the right amount of sorrow and looks at Gale with sad eyes.

“I have to ask, were you listening to the interview before yours?” 

Gale is silent for a long moment and he just looks at Caesar, the entire room holding its breath. He sits as if there is heaviness on his shoulders and finally he nods slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Yes,” he says softly, “though I really wish I hadn’t.”

Caesar is surprised and for once, she thinks it’s genuine.

“Why?”

Gale looks back up at him and oh, he plays tragedy so, so well. “Because, before I heard that, I could believe we never had a chance. I could believe that even though I’ve loved her for so, so long, she never loved me back. It doesn’t matter that I might die, because there was never a future for us. But now I know there could have been. Now, when there can’t be, I know we could have had a life together. Now, at the worst possible moment, I know I didn’t love in vain. Except, I did, didn’t I?”

A groan covers the whole room, emanates from every pair of lips. Madge allows her eyes to widen, allows shaking hands to come up and cover her mouth and oh, he’s played this so much better than she ever dared dream. 

“Gale Hawthorne ladies and gentlemen!” 

The crowd screams for him, screams and whistles and cheers for their tragic hero. He walks over to her and she is sure the cameras follow his every move. She does not take her eyes off him. Her hands slip from her mouth to press against her heart and he doesn’t sit beside her like he’s meant to, he stands before her and stares down at her. Caesar tries his closing address but no one is listening. Madge stands on unsteady legs and the audience is enthralled. She and Gale look at each other for a moment and no one breathes. 

“Gale,” she whispers softly and he touches her cheek. And then, before a crowd of Capitol citizens so eager for spectacle and tragedy and romance, he kisses her. It is soft, sweet and the room erupts. Madge has never been kissed before and her blood warms in her veins as his lips press against hers. He cradles her face like it’s made of glass and the audience screams and claps and weeps. The lights are shut off above their heads and Gale pulls away.

Their work is done here.

* * *

Haymitch is actually grinning when they get back to their rooms.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he says and claps a hand on Gale’s back. Gale shrugs away from his touch.

“I guess you were wrong,” he says and his voice is hard and unkind. Effie sniffles and Madge presses her thumb against her lips. That was her first kiss and never would she have guessed it would come on television before all of Panem or that it wouldn’t come from love or infatuation or even attraction. Still, as unromantic as it may be, she thinks this kiss might be better than any other. This kiss might save her life.

“Oh, it’s just so sad,” Effie warbles and Madge blinks at her. Haymitch shakes his head and Effie actually believes it, believes she and Gale are in love and suffering for it. That’s good. If they fooled her, there’s a good chance they’ve fooled everyone else. Gale scowls and Haymitch rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. Anyway, you two should get to bed, you have a big day ahead of you,” he says and Gale is already marching away to his room. Madge hurries after him. It’s hard in her tall shoes and he must hear the click click clack of her following him. When they are safely out of view, she calls his name.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks and he stops walking. She stares at his back and tension vibrates in each and every one of his muscles.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have kissed you without talking to you about it first.”

Madge’s eyes widen. “Oh no, it was amazing,” she says and feels a blush touch her cheeks. “It was an amazing idea,” she corrects because that’s what she meant. Not that it hadn’t been an amazing kiss on its own, because it had been. It had made her warm, made her flutter even though she knew it was fake and it’s no wonder the girls at school whisper about him in the halls. But that’s not the point right now.

“It did better than anything we said did,” she says and he turns around to face her finally. “And I was hoping we could talk about that, about getting more mileage out of this lie.”

“Who knew young love could be such a tragedy?” Effie all but wails from down the hall and Gale closes his eyes with a pained look on his face. Madge winces.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Haymitch answers and Effie makes a distraught sound.

“Oh, you’re heartless.”

Gale exhales heavily and she is sure she can see sparks in his breath.

“Fine,” he says, “but first I need to get out of these fucking clothes.” He tugs the jacket off so violently a button nearly hits her in the arm. He wrenches open his door, throws the jacket inside and then stomps after it. Madge goes to her own room more sedately. She hates it here, hates the people and the Capitol and everything they do, but Gale has always hated them more. If being here is agony for her, she can’t even imagine how it must feel for him. He must be drowning.

Her outfit is complicated to escape, but she manages to unwind the ribbons on her legs after a momentary struggle and then kicks off the shoes. Her feet sigh in relief. Unzipping her dress nearly involves dislocating her arm, but she is eventually free of it and already she feels more at ease, more Madge. She washes her face and undoes her hair, pretty but not beautiful yet again. She slips into her sleepwear and creeps across the hall to Gale’s room. She doubts Effie would approve of any late night meetings.

She knocks but there is no answer. She knocks again and “Gale?” she calls. Still, he doesn’t answer. Is he in there? She looks both ways down the hall and when he doesn’t answer her third knock, she tries to figure out where else he could be. He wouldn’t have gone back to the main room, would he? What if Effie wanted to talk? No, he wouldn’t do that. But then where? He can’t be in his room, he wouldn’t be that rude. Right? No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. It’s unlikely he’s in Haymitch’s or Effie’s room, so she turns back towards the main room and hopes Effie doesn’t want to talk. 

The lights are low and maybe Effie and Haymitch have gone to bed. Madge very much hopes so. She steps cautiously into the living area but no shrill voice greets her and maybe she’s safe. There is no one at all as she looks around and she frowns. She turns the other way and oh. There, beyond the glass, she can see his long form shadowed on the balcony. Fresh air, she’s almost forgotten what that tastes like. Madge is quiet as she joins him and he doesn’t glance her way, his eyes staring at all the bright, beautiful lights spilling out below them. He is wearing a plain shirt and pants and he seems to have taken a shower, his hair no longer slicked back but damp and falling naturally. He looks far better as himself.

“Look at this place,” he says as she leans against the rail beside him. “Look at how they live. We’re starving in Twelve and they live like this. Someone should burn this whole fucking place to the ground.” He is bitter, he is angry and he is right. They deserve better, they all deserve better, except the Capitol. They deserve to pay.

“I’m not sure how to do that, but maybe one of us can at least beat them at their own game,” she says and Gale turns his head to look at her. She peers up at the sky but the lights are too bright for her to see any stars. She might hate the Capitol even more.

“When you kissed me, I had an idea. I know you probably already have a strategy worked out and maybe even people you want to ally with, but I think...after seeing how they reacted to us together, not just talking about each other, but being together...I think we should team up.”

She doesn’t look at him, she doesn’t want to see his reaction until she’s finished.

“We join together and we let them fall even more in love with us, with our romance. Let them grow eager for the tragedy to come as we work together and protect each other and seize every last second we can. Let them root for us and wish there was some way we could go home together. And then, when enough tributes are gone, I’ll suggest we split up. It’ll be tearful and heartbreaking, but I won’t be able to bear watching you die. But you’ll refuse. You’ll say you love me so much you want to stay with me until the end, protect me as long as you can, even if that means dying. There’s no victory for you without me. I’ll stay. But then, that night when you’re asleep, I’ll leave. Because I love you too much to let you die for me. I’ll be devastated and when you wake up, you’ll be frantic to find me. You won’t. We’ll be heartbroken and every time a cannon sounds, we’ll be terrified. We’ll watch the sky and if we see each other’s face up there, we’ll be shattered. And they’ll love it and devour it and want more and more and more. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help one of us win. We’ll be their favourite tributes, their beloved tragic romance and they won’t be able to stop thinking about us and talking about us and doing all they can to help us win. We’ll make them carry us all the way home.”

The idea had bloomed into being while he’d kissed her, the Capitol shrieking and already obsessing over just the hint of a tragedy to come. Imagine how much they’d love them if they could see them being in love, if they could see them in all their glory and know that every second brought them closer to the inevitable bloody end. If they spent all their time in the arena apart, their story would be of interest, but if they spend it together? The Capitol will be ruined.

Gale breathes out angrily and grips the railing tight. Madge bites her lip.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, it’s just an idea-”

“A good one,” he says and fire leaks from his skin. “A really good one, damn it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he says and presses his balled fists to his forehead. “It’s not you, it’s that I have to...to lie and lie and lie so these monsters will love me and save me from the mess they’ve dropped me in.” He pushes his hands into his hair and digs his fingers into his scalp. “I’d rather kill them but I can’t. My family needs me, I promised them I’d come home and...and fuck.”

Madge feels her chest ache. “Yeah,” she says and tears gather in her voice. “I know how you feel. I hate this too, but we don’t have much choice. I want to go home. And if not me, then I want you to go home.”

His hands fall to his sides and when he looks at her, she can taste the tragedy of Panem on her tongue. 

“Me too,” he says softly and she nods. 

“And Katniss will understand. If you go home, you can explain it. She’ll understand.”

Gale’s eyes flash and he knows he’s in love with Katniss, even if Katniss has never acknowledged it. She wonders sometimes if Katniss is genuinely oblivious to his feelings or deliberately ignoring them because she doesn’t feel the same. Well, it hardly matters now.

“And if you do make it home, can you...will you tell Katniss thank you? I never got a chance to say goodbye, can you tell her how much it meant to be her friend?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to shake so much but it does and she doesn’t want to die, damn it she doesn’t want to die. She is sixteen, why is she about to die?

“I will,” he says and she believes him. She looks back out at the opulent world below them and thinks of home, of her dad and her mom and Katniss and she will be the mockingjay on her pin. The Capitol tried to stomp them out, to eradicate them but never could.

She’ll be just as resilient.

“When we’re out there, we should be as honest as possible. We need them to believe us and the best lies are the ones closest to the truth. So be yourself. Don’t make things up unless you have to, don’t adopt a new personality or persona, just be you. The only lie we should tell is that we’re in love, everything else should be us,” she says and he breathes out fire.

“I don’t think they’d want me to be me,” he almost growls, voice low and angry. Madge feels his rage touch hers, feels it light hers aflame.

“I do,” she says firmly and when his eyes meet hers she is sure she can smell smoke rising. “As for the sponsors, well be as much of you as you can be.”

He nods and it’s strange to be standing here with Gale Hawthorne of all people. For as long as she’s known him, he’s looked at her like she was poison. Now they’re making plans to keep each other alive.

“Madge,” Gale says and she’s not really sure why, but she's very glad he’s finally started using her name. “Tomorrow, as soon as you can, run. Don’t go to the cornucopia, just run. I’ll find you. I can track you and I’ll find you.”

Madge smiles faintly. “That was always the plan. Haymitch gave me the same advice, but I didn’t need it. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. Running was always my plan.”

She knows of course that it isn’t his plan. He will go to the cornucopia for a weapon and food and supplies. He has better odds than she does in a straight fight, but odds are something she would never bet on. He could die in the bloodbath but nothing she says will change that. There are no stars in the sky, but maybe, she thinks, maybe she can see them in his eyes.

“Be careful, Gale. Come find me.”

The last thing he said to her back home was angry and all about how she would never, ever be reaped. The last thing he says to her now is a promise.

“I will.”

* * *

She needs to sleep, needs to be properly rested but this could be her very last night alive. She wants more, she’s going to fight for more, but the fact is, this could be the last. Tomorrow is the only morning she is guaranteed to reach and her breathing stutters. 

If this is to be her last night, she really wishes she could have spent it in her own bed.

* * *

The last morning she can be sure she’ll have is quiet.

She’s never been much of a talker and she doesn’t say a word all morning, not to anyone about anything. She’s not sure what she’d say even if she tried. She showers, she eats and then she's flown to the arena. A tracker is stuck in her arm and she avoids looking at everyone else. This is terrifying but she cannot let it swallow her.

Eventually she is hustled into a room and turned over to Agrippa. He takes her chin in his hand and turns her face this way and that, before he sighs. “If only you were beautiful. But I suppose pretty will have to do.”

He opens a closet door and pulls out a quilted bodysuit. He hands it to her. He turns back to the closet and Madge strips out of her clothes and then pulls on the outfit he’d given her. It covers everything but her feet, hands and face and she is sweating almost as soon as she puts it on. Her stomach starts to roll because this must mean the arena is to be a cold one. She remembers the games where nearly everyone froze and though she knows they won’t let that happen again, she cannot help the fear. Cold weather will make everything so much harder. 

“Here, put these on too,” Agrippa says and Madge pulls on thick socks, a pair of just under the knee boots and then a zip up jacket with a hood. She is melting and Agrippa attends to her hair, braiding it and then pinning it back behind her head. He leaves a soft tendril to frame each side of her face and then he is painting colour onto her lips. A soft, sweet pink before he makes her eyelashes long and black like they were at her interview. For a moment, she is confused. Why is he bothering to make her up? But of course, this is what she is. She is the pretty girl who holds Gale Hawthorne’s heart. He’s the hero with the good score and better odds, she’s the love interest. Fine, good. Let them think that. She's safer if they underestimate her. Agrippa hands her a pair of gloves and then finally, he takes out her pin.

“This is very nice, is it really from Twelve?” he asks and she aches to rip it from his hands. She nods.

“Hmm, how strange. They almost confiscated it, you know. What if you tried to stab someone? I suppose they decided you were unlikely to kill anyone by pin stabbing.”

He fastens it to her jacket, right over her heart and she feels a little steadier. The Capitol tried to eliminate the mockingjays, but they couldn’t. They won’t rub her out either.

“Time to go,” Agrippa says and she steps into a glass box that makes her feel as if she can’t breathe. Her chest is tight and he doesn’t even watch as her box begins to rise, taking her up and up and up. She presses her hand to her pin.

This is it.


	2. the children's war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the capitol's made monsters of them all

White.

The whole world is white as her platform rises into position, the sun making it glow. She blinks a few times and snow, thick and bright, coats the whole arena. It doesn’t have the same gray tinge the snow back home always has and maybe she’s lucky she’s from Twelve and has actually experienced winter before. Some tributes have probably never even seen snow. Maybe, this time at least, the odds are just slightly in her favour.

_50_

Less than a minute and her eyes take in as much as they can. The cornucopia is directly before her and beyond that are mountains, so impossibly tall their peaks seem to dip into the clouds. Those mountains continue to the right of them, circling them in on two sides. To her left is a forest made entirely of evergreens frosted with white. Dry pine needles are good for fires she remembers, but with all the snow, nothing is likely to be dry. She twists to look behind her, ever mindful not to move her feet. There is nothing but tundra that way, wide open and blistering. Madge turns back to the front.

The forest it is.

_30_

She looks to her fellow tributes now, her eyes skipping over every one until she lands on Gale. He is six to the right of her, poised and determined. His eyes are fixed on the cornucopia and his body coiled and ready to spring. 

_10_

Madge takes a breath and slowly blows it out. Time to go.

_1_

The gong sounds and she is off like a shot. She leaps from her platform into the snow and it rises to mid-calf, but she can’t let it slow her. Already the sounds of carnage echo on the wind but Madge doesn’t look back or hesitate for even a moment. She needs to get away. Fear is a living thing within her and she pushes through the snow as fast as she can, all the way to the treeline and then farther and farther after that. She zigs, she zags and the problem with snow is her footfalls will leave a trail. Anyone who wants to follow her can. She turns left and runs several yards before turning back around and running the other way. Maybe if she can make a mess of her tracks, she’ll be harder to find. 

Gale is a tracker, a hunter, she won’t fool him. He promised he’d find her. 

The chill stings her cheeks and she runs, runs, runs. She has to get away. Far, far away. Her lungs hurt from dragging in ice and the wind bites at her neck, but she can’t stop. Not yet.

Keep running.

Run, run, run.

* * *

Her running slows to a jog and she knows she’ll have to stop soon. She isn’t in terrible shape, but there’s only so far she can go. The cold is sinking through her boots and dampening her toes, it’s getting harder to breathe but she needs somewhere to hide. She can’t just stop right out in the open. There are no caves in sight, the tree branches are too high for her to reach and then to her left she notices the ground sloping invitingly downwards. That’ll have to do. She keeps jogging for a few minutes and then slowly, carefully steps backwards in her footprints until she returns to the slope. She can’t just walk to the edge and down, that would defeat the purpose of her false trail, so she does the only other thing she can think of. She jumps.

She actually manages to land on her feet only for them to immediately slip out from under her and she slides the rest of the way down on her back. She squeaks in both alarm and surprise, before biting down hard on her tongue. Quiet and stealthy this is not. Snow crams itself under her jacket and she only comes to a halt when she slides right into a tree. For a moment she just lies there, a little bit embarrassed and more than a little terrified someone might have heard her. If someone other than Gale heard her…

Madge stands on nervous legs and shakes the snow from her jacket. She brushes it off her legs, arms and hair, the wind picking up and blowing into her face. She pulls up her hood but there’s no way to tighten it or tie it, so the wind simply pushes it down again. Helpful. Tucking her fingers under her arms to fight the chill, she looks around. She’s in a small clearing but the tree she’d bumped into is thick enough she should be able to hide behind it. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. Madge steps around the tree and presses her back against its bark. Now she waits.

Except she can’t. She can’t just stand here waiting for Gale to come find her. She may be playing the love interest, but that doesn’t mean she can’t do anything useful or practical. She isn’t built to do nothing but wait. He is coming and she....she can find plants. Edible ones and medicinal ones, all the things she’d spent ages studying in training. Madge nods to herself and looks around. There’s nothing growing on the trees except pine needles, the bushes all around the clearing are bare and where are all the plants? They have to be somewhere. If they were included in training, it’s because they’re here somewhere. But where? 

Not the trees, not the bushes and nothing could possibly be alive under all the snow on the ground. Except...none of this is real. The Capitol’s made it all and they have to have put the plants somewhere. Madge squats down and digs through the snow until she finds the ground beneath. It is lush, verdant and triumph flares in her blood. She has no idea how the Capitol’s done it, but all the plants she’d studied must be buried under the snow. She gets back to her digging and the first thing she finds is poison. 

Somehow that doesn’t surprise her.

She never bothered to learn the names of any of the plants she studied, just their uses and what they look like. The berries she uncovers are a lumpy, pale red and she knows the pulpy orange juice inside is fatal. A few drops will swell up a throat and cut off all air in moments. Madge picks them all and fills her right pocket to the brim. You never know.

She zips the pocket and returns to her search. There are edible berries in blue that she puts in her left pocket; long, thin leaves that when crushed into paste do wonders to soothe burns that she stuffs into one side of her bra; fragrant herbs to help infection that she puts in the other side of her bra and then fat leaves with jagged edges that when boiled help fight fever that she crams into her right boot. Hopefully she won’t need most of them, but better safe than sorry. She stands back up and she’s made a mess of the clearing, the snow churned up and it’s obvious someone’s been here now. Maybe she should find somewhere else to hide. 

Madge turns to look back up the slope as she contemplates what to do at the exact same moment someone else creeps to the edge and peers down it. They both freeze. Madge and the twelve year old girl from Eleven stare at each with wide eyes for what is probably only a few seconds, but feels like hours. Her heart starts to gallop in her chest. That girl is so small, so slight and young and even though she has to die for Madge to go home, the words come tumbling out anyways.

“There’s plants under the snow, that’s where they all are. Do you know which ones are edible?”

The girl nods, her brown eyes nearly swallowing her face. They are technically enemies and yet still Madge can’t stop talking. “Do you know which ones can be used for medicine?”

Eleven shakes her head.

“If you mush this into pulp and then rub it on a burn, it’ll help. Crush this one up and sprinkle it in a wound to fight infections. Boil this one and drink it to calm a fever,” Madge rattles off and the thought of this little girl dying makes her sick to her stomach. She needs to die if Madge wants to see home, but she doesn’t want her to. Looking at her, Madge desperately doesn’t want her to. 

“Good luck,” she says and there’s a catch in her voice. Eleven smiles and it’s so sweet Madge feels acid in her throat.

“Good luck,” Eleven says back and then she’s gone, darting off into the snow. Madge presses her fingers into her eyes and tries not to cry. She wants to call her back, wants to demand Gale help her send this little girl home. They are sixteen and eighteen, too young to die, but it’s older than twelve. It’s too late now, if she were to yell it could kill them both, but still the words build in her throat. Come back, come back, but she has missed her chance. The tears come even though she doesn’t want them to and how can the Capitol stomach this? Twelve year olds should never die, never never. But then, neither should sixteen year olds or eighteen year olds or any of the other children the Capitol has forced to die for decades. Gale is right. 

Someone should burn them to the ground.

* * *

In the end, she doesn’t find somewhere else to hide. The bloodbath must be winding down and venturing out might lead her to any number of fleeing tributes. Her first priority has to be staying alive. She kicks the snow back into position and waits behind that tree, waits and waits because Gale is coming. He’d promised and she owes it to him to wait, even though she can’t think of anything she hates more. She isn’t made to sit around and wait, but it was her idea to team up. She won’t abandon him.

Of course, the longer she waits, the more she can’t help but wonder if he’s coming at all. He’d said he would, he’d promised he would, but he might be dead. He went to the Cornucopia, he might be dead or dying right now while she waits and that...that feels a little like sinking. She doesn’t want him to die. He has to, she knows that, but that doesn’t mean she wants him to. 

Or maybe he’s decided against this alliance. He’s never liked her, maybe he’s decided to strike out on his own or team up with someone else. She received a five in training, maybe he thinks she’s useless and will only hold him back. Maybe he’s alive and well, safe somewhere far from her and she’s waiting for nothing at all. 

She could leave, she could survive on her own because that’s what she trained to do. Her strategy has merit, but she doesn’t need him. She can do this on her own. She isn’t Gale or a career or even Katniss, but Madge Undersee doesn’t surrender without a fight. Gale might have betrayed her already, but that doesn’t mean she’s helpless. Until yesterday she’d planned on going it alone, she still can.

The sun moves across the sky and she waits a little longer. Maybe he’s abandoned her, maybe he’s dead, but Madge won’t let the Capitol twist her into something she’s not anymore than they already have. They want her to be cruel, selfish and suspicious. In some ways, she’ll have to be. But not this time. She can’t wait forever, but she can wait a little longer. She’d said she would and no matter what he’s doing right now, she doesn’t break a promise unless she has to. She won’t assume the worst just yet.

She’ll wait until sundown.

* * *

The sky grows dim, the truth that he isn’t coming settles over her and she has to go. Is he dead? Somewhere far away without her? It doesn’t matter. She can’t worry about that, can’t let it affect her. Her family needs her to go home and she doesn’t want to die. That’s what matters now.

She steps out from behind her tree and the first thing she needs to do is find shelter. She has food, there’s plenty of water all around her and what she needs is somewhere to sleep that won’t leave her vulnerable. She needs to move quickly before it gets too dark and-

“Madge.”

Her breath catches and she turns around. There, at the top of the ridge where Eleven had stood, is Gale. He’s alive. There is a pack on his back, a bow in his hand and he’s here. He found her. He comes down the hill with far more grace than she’d managed and she can’t look away. 

“Gale,” she whispers and everything she does must be perfect. They are in love, true love, she can’t forget that. The relief in her blood is real at least and he walks towards her. When he reaches her, she flings her arms around him and falls into his chest. The arm without the bow wraps around her and he kisses the side of her head, his lips somehow warm despite the cold of the arena. They cling to each other and she wonders if he’s as relieved to see her as she is him. They aren’t friends, they're not anything really, but she is glad he isn’t dead. 

“I was so afraid for you,” she says and makes sure her voice is filled to the brim with terror and relief and what she hopes love sounds like. Gale tightens his grip on her. 

“I promised I’d come find you,” he says and her heartbeat picks up. The audience must be loving this. How romantic, how tragic. She closes her eyes and she was right to keep waiting, to have faith in him. He’d promised he’d come and he did. She pulls back and reaches for his face. Her palm against his cheek and then she leans up and kisses him. It is a slow kiss and short, but even still her cheeks grow warm and her breathing stumbles. Maybe if she was more used to kissing it would be easier, but she isn’t. This is only the second kiss she’s ever had. 

“We need to move. Anyone could be following us, we should find shelter,” Gale murmurs even as he continues to hold her against him and she nods. They separate but he holds out a hand and she takes it. They move together, careful and quiet and alert. Danger could be anywhere. Madge keeps her eyes peeled for either shelter or enemy tributes but finds neither. They walk on, deeper and deeper into the trees and the sun begins to sink below the sky. And that’s when the cannons sound.

_Boom_

They both stop in their tracks, the first boom followed by another and another. Neither of them breathes until it’s over, eleven booms in all. 

“Eleven. Almost half,” Gale says and Madge nods. That’s good. It shouldn’t be, eleven dead kids shouldn’t be good, but it is. 

The Capitol’s made monsters of them all.

* * *

Gale squeezes her fingers and they move again, still alert but slightly quicker as the sky grows dimmer and dimmer. It grows colder too and soon soft flakes of snow begin to fall. Gale swears and Madge stares into the gloom with narrowed eyes. It is harder and harder to see but maybe…

“Gale,” she whispers. “Gale, over there.” She points and he follows the line of her finger. Off to the right might be a cave, but she can’t be sure. They creep over and it is a cave, the mouth of it opening on total darkness. Gale drops her hand and notches an arrow. Her fingers curl into tight fists as he steps cautiously inside, bow and arrow at the ready. Anything could be waiting in there, from tributes to mutts to a plain old bear. If only they could see.

“Maybe we should check your bag, maybe there’s something to use as a light or to start a fire,” she suggests and Gale nods. He hands her his bow and arrow and swings his pack around to the front. He unzips it and riffles inside, the snowfall growing thicker and thicker. 

“Hah, you were right,” he says and pulls out a flashlight. He grins and Madge feels herself smiling too. They trade and she flicks it on, the yellow light immediately coming to life. Night crawls closer and Gale arms himself again.

“Stay close,” he says and she nods. They step into the shadows together and she slowly sweeps the flashlight from one end of the cave to the other. It isn’t deep and it’s oval in shape and thankfully empty. Except for the very back, where a wrapped bundle lies on the floor. She peeks up at Gale and he nods. They take small steps closer, her flashlight trained on the bundle. Madge bends down when they reach it and slowly unwraps it. She gasps.

“Firewood! Dry firewood. Look and pine needles!” She peers up at Gale and can’t help but beam. He grins back. The last cold arena had killed most of its tributes with exposure, the gamemakers clearly don’t want a repeat. 

“Alright, I saw some rocks outside. I’ll go grab them and we can start a fire.” 

Madge nods and he hurries off, returning quickly with his rocks. She holds the flashlight for him as he sets up and then cracks two rocks together to make sparks. He makes quick work of it and soon a little fire blazes steadily away. She turns off the flashlight and even though it’s small, she feels so much warmer already. They smile at each other across the flames.

“What else do you have in there?” she asks and he pulls off the pack and opens it up. He digs a hand in.

“Let’s see, we’ve got...a knife, an empty water bottle, one, two, three, four packs of jerky and a blanket.” 

“Ooo, I wouldn’t mind that blanket,” she says and Gale unfurls it with a grin.

“Oh yeah? What would you say to sharing it?” The flirtatious lilt of his voice is just right and Madge hopes her answering smile is as bashful as she wants it to be.

“I might be okay with that,” she says and he grins a little wider. She stands to walk over to him but never gets there. The first notes of the Capitol anthem begin to play and they share a wide eyed look before they both hurry to the mouth of the cave. They have a clear shot of the sky and they look up at it as the day’s fallen are projected upon it. The girl from District One, both tributes from Three, the boy from Four, the boy from Five, the girl from Six, both from Seven, the boy from Eight, the boy from Nine and finally the girl from Ten. 

“Two of the careers,” she breathes and Gale nods. 

“Good,” he says and they retreat back to the fire. She sits but he doesn’t join her.

“Maybe I should go out and see if I can hunt something,” he says and she frowns.

“It’s dark out.”

“I still might be able to find something,” he says and she grabs his hand.

“Don’t. It’s dangerous and we have plenty for tonight. We have jerky and berries-”

“Berries?” he asks and she pats her pocket. 

“I gathered some up, as well as some plants for medicine. Did you think I was just sitting around waiting for my big, strong hero?” she teases and wins a grin from him. Or maybe he’s just playing along, she can’t tell. Which is good, because no one watching probably can either.

“Of course not,” he says and she smiles.

“So like I said, we have plenty to tide us over tonight. Tomorrow, when the sun’s out, you can hunt all you want. But for tonight, stay with me,” she says and tugs on his hand. He lets her pull him down beside her and she wraps them both up in the blanket. He slides an arm around her and she leans her head on his shoulder.

“And, see? We get to snuggle by firelight. Isn’t this nice?” she asks and he nods.

“Yeah. I never imagined I’d ever have the chance to be like this with you. Madge,” he says and he makes her name sound so very precious. He turns her face towards him and his glows gold in the firelight. She doesn’t have to pretend to find him handsome, he is, impossibly so. “I love you,” he says and it sounds so sincere everyone must be in tears as they sit in front of their television screens. He is so much better at this than she ever imagined he’d be. 

“I love you too,” she says and pictures everyone she truly does love as she says it. She hopes the genuine emotion bleeds into the words and he leans in slowly, so slowly she could easily avoid the coming kiss if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She has a part to play here and so she closes her eyes and tilts her head up to meet him. Her third kiss is slow but full of heat and when his tongue so very tentatively comes out to brush her lips, she knows he’s asking for permission. She could keep this more chaste, but the whole point of this charade is to convince everyone they are madly in love. She opens her mouth even as it makes her cheeks burn and then he deepens the kiss until she’s dizzy. He is too good at this, but that’s better. Any reaction she doesn’t have to fake will make fooling everyone easier.

He pulls back just slightly, his nose still brushing hers. “I always thought you’d taste like strawberries,” he murmurs and she feels herself blush all over. She honestly can’t tell if he’s serious or not and it takes her a moment to find any words. 

“And what do I taste like?” she asks breathily and he grins.

“Toothpaste.”

Madge rolls her eyes and shakes her head. He laughs.

“Not quite what I dreamed of,” he says and she rolls her eyes again.

“Hmm, so sorry to disappoint you,” she says and means to reach for the jerky but he catches her in a kiss before she can. This kiss is deep and ardent enough her bones warm beneath her skin and a shiver touches her spine. Her hands find their way to his shoulders and she wonders if the audience notices the way his stay where they are, never touching her or escalating this in any way. Even hers are safe at his shoulders, not running over him in the way she thinks such a kiss would usually dictate. They are not in love, this is an act and hopefully no one pays much attention to that. Hopefully the kiss takes their breath away so they don’t notice anything else. It’s certainly taking hers away and she knows it’s fake. 

“You never could,” he breathes against her lips and she is sure everyone in the Capitol is swooning. Madge looks up at him and tries to think of something suitably romantic to say in return. Luckily, she doesn’t have to.

“Look!” she says in excitement and gestures behind him. He turns and they both watch the little silver parachute land just in front of their cave. Gale is up in an instant to get it and then brings it back over. She leans into him as he cracks open the canister and the first thing she sees is a scrap of paper that reads _good show._ Haymitch’s message is clear; the more romantic they are, the more rewards they’ll get. Her plan is working. Gale quickly crumples Haymitch’s note so the cameras don’t see it and pulls out two containers from the canister. He hands one to her and they unscrew them together.

“Strawberries,” he laughs and “Cream!” she discovers happily. Gale furrows his brow.

“What’s the cream for?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve never had strawberries and cream before?” she asks and he shakes his head.

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” she promises and plucks a strawberry from his container and dips it in the cream. “Here,” she says and offers it up to him. She feeds it to him and soon his sceptical expression melts into one of wonder.

“Wow, that’s…”

“Amazing, right?” she asks and he nods. He helps himself to another and Madge does too. Everything is still terrible, but for a moment at least, she is warm, they are safe and her taste buds are happy. She leans into his side, his arm holds her near and too soon their treat is gone. She licks the last of the cream from her fingers with a sigh.

“Oh, that was great. The jerky looks really unappetizing in comparison,” she says and he snorts. She reaches for the jerky and just like last time, he interrupts her with a kiss. He pulls back and though her heart skips a beat, this time she knows what to say.

“Just like your dreams?” she asks and he shakes his head.

“Better.”

She feels her face warm and Gale laughs. He steals another quick kiss and stands.

“I’m going to go fill this with snow,” he says and takes the water bottle outside. Madge finally gets a hold of the jerky, opens a pack and splits it in two. They need to save their supplies as much as possible, just in case. He returns with the bottle and a handful of snow. She trades him his half of the jerky for it and lets it melt on her tongue. At least they won’t have to worry about water, that’s something. They eat their jerky in silence, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the hair left down to frame her face. 

“What are we going to do about sleep?” she asks. “Should we do it in shifts?”

He nods. “Yeah, I think that’s probably better. You go first, I think I’m too keyed up to sleep right now.”

Madge looks at him and feels a stone settle in her chest. He’d been at the bloodbath, seen people die, maybe even killed someone himself. She can’t even imagine what that feels like. She touches his cheek.

“You okay?” she asks and of course he isn’t, what a silly question. He smiles faintly.

“Yeah, just not ready for bed.” She doesn’t believe him, but she won’t push him to talk. She nods and impulsively kisses his cheek.

“If you’re sure. But don’t let me sleep too long. We’re doing this in shifts remember and you have to sleep too. If I wake up and it’s morning, I’m going to be very upset with you.”

He grins a little stronger. “Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

“You don’t want to know,” she promises and smiles innocently. He breathes out a little laugh and she grabs the empty pack to use as a pillow. She snuggles down and it isn’t comfortable, there is still so much fear in her lungs and Gale...does she trust Gale? She trusts him to follow the plan, it’s to his benefit too, and she knows he’s honest. He’d said he wouldn’t be the one that kills her and...she believes it. They can’t both win this, but for now at least they’re on the same team. Safe is an impossible word in the Hunger Games and she doesn’t feel safe, she can’t. But for the moment at least, she doesn’t feel terrified.

Coupled with the exhaustion that slams into her when she closes her eyes, that’s enough.

* * *

“Morning,” Gale says as he wakes her and her eyes fly open.

“Morning?” she demands in outrage and sits up. She opens her mouth but the words stall on her tongue when she notices the world outside their cave is still very, very dark. He laughs.

“Ooops, my mistake. Still the middle of the night.”

Madge shakes her head and flicks him in the shoulder. “Jerk,” she says and slides him the pack to use as a pillow. He laughs and hunkers down.

“Terribly sorry,” he says and she rolls her eyes. He grins and then yawns.

“Good night,” he manages through it and Madge, ever conscious of their audience, leans down and kisses his forehead.

“Good night.”

* * *

Gale wakes on his own just after the sun rises. 

He stretches, sits up and finally notices her staring at him. “What?” he asks and she shakes her head in disbelief.

“You snore,” she says and he takes a drink from the water bottle.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before,” he says and offers her the bottle. She takes it but doesn’t drink. 

“No, like you really snore. It was so loud, how did you not wake yourself up?” she asks and he rolls his eyes.

“You sound like my brothers.”

“I don’t know how they ever sleep. How does anyone in your house sleep? How does anyone in the Seam sleep?”

Gale rolls his eyes again and begins to pack up their blanket. “It’s not that bad,” he defends and she stares at him incredulously.

“I am genuinely surprised every tribute in this arena didn’t find us because it was so loud.”

Gale quirks an eyebrow and the look in his eyes is wicked. “Oh, because you’re such a fantastic sleeping companion?”

She narrows her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You drool,” he informs her with a smirk and she knows her face is red.

“That’s not-”

“True? Oh it is. I have the wet patch on my leg to prove it,” he says and the amount of glee in his tone is downright rude. She is burning and he is still smirking and when had she slept on his leg? 

“It’s...It’s not...that’s not the same,” she finally manages and both his eyebrows go up this time. “Yours is hazardous to our health.”

“Right, and yours is just gross,” he says and she shoves his shoulder. 

“You’re a jerk,” she informs him and only then remembers their audience. How had she forgotten? She’d been talking this whole time without even thinking of them, but she can’t do that. Sponsors are survival, she must play everything for them. She offers Gale a cheeky grin.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when I said I was in love with you, I must have confused you with someone else,” she teases and means to stand up. Gale doesn’t give her the chance. He grabs her wrist and pulls her flush against him, his lips hovering just over hers.

“Oh yeah? And who did you confuse me for?”

It’s strange because it’s almost as if she is two different Madges. One is cool and calm and detached from the situation, carefully deciding how best to play this to win the hearts of the Capitol. The other is hot and struggling to breathe, his body pressed all along hers and his face so terribly close to hers. She has no experience with any of this and he is handsome, the handsomest boy she’s ever seen. It was easy to ignore back home, where he was all scowls and rude remarks, but now he smiles and teases and looks wonderstruck at strawberries and cream. She isn’t in danger of falling for him, but it does make all this a little more flustering than she’s used to. He kisses her.

“Thom Oakfield maybe? He lives just down the street and I’ve been told we could pass for cousins.”

Madge licks her lips. “No.” Gale kisses her again.

“One of the Mellark boys from the bakery?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

He presses another kiss to her lips. “Kern Aldjoy then?”

“No,” she breathes and his lips stop just before they meet hers.

“Who then?”

“I can’t seem to remember,” she whispers and he grins.

“Oh, too bad.”

And then he kisses her and her arms slide around him, her fingers weaving through his hair. Again she is two Madges, one who finds it hard to think of anything but the way he’s sinking into her mouth and another that only thinks, that can’t feel the heat of him or taste his tongue on hers. They kiss and kiss for a long time, her blood sizzling, until he finally pulls away. 

“I’m starving,” he says and she tips her head back.

“How romantic. Just what every girl wants to hear.”

He grins. “So did I hear something about berries last night?”

Madge rolls her eyes but unzips her pocket and takes out the berries. She gives him half. “Is that really why you keep me around?” she asks and he smirks.

“Maybe not the only reason,” he flirts, eyes on her lips and though she smiles and pretends to be pleased, she feels a little hollow. She’s probably going to die here in this arena and if she does, Gale will most likely be the last person she spends any significant amount of time with. And yet, no matter how many days they spend together before the end, they’ll still be practically strangers. They have to be, it’ll be far too painful later otherwise, but she realises now just how empty that feels. 

The Capitol really does love a tragedy.

* * *

“We should get moving,” Gale says after they’ve finished eating, “the longer we stay in one place, the easier it’ll be to find us.”

Or for the gamemakers to throw some action at them and she nods. They pack up the rest of the jerky, the knife and the water bottle and then set out hand in hand. The sun is bright in the sky, the snow is deeper today, all the way up to her knees but the wind is light so her hood actually stays up. They are silent as they walk and Madge keeps her eyes alert for any place they can use as shelter. It is slow going through the snow and it must be past midday when Gale finally spots somewhere. 

“How about there?” he says and Madge follows his eyes to an outcropping of rock not too far ahead of them. It’s not a cave, more of a shelf they can hide under but it’s better than nothing. Hopefully it doesn’t get too cold tonight. 

“Okay, I’m going to see if I can find us something to eat,” he says and she nods.

“I’ll look for more berries. We ate everything I had.”

Gale looks at her for a long moment before he nods slowly. “Okay, but be careful.”

Magde smiles faintly and squeezes his hand. “You too.” 

They separate, he into the trees with his bow and she to begin her search. She bends down and starts digging, but uncovers only grass. She moves over to another patch of snow and reminds herself that it is better, much better, they don’t learn anything about each other or become something more than strangers. One of them is going to have to die, attachment will only make that so much worse. Even that brief moment this morning, when they teased each other about drooling and snoring, was too friendly for the Hunger Games. It’s empty true, but that will make the end easier to bear. She was right in training, now is the worst time to make friends. 

The fourth place she searches finally bears fruit, little green ones that almost look like grapes but are too dark. She remembers learning about them in training and they’re safe, though bitter to taste. Not ideal, but better than starving. She fills up her pocket and then

_boom_

The cannon sounds and her heart stops in her chest. “Gale,” she breathes and the terror in her blood is real. She stands and though logic says she might be heading straight into danger, she runs off in the direction he’d left in. Her heart starts again, beating so hard her ribs feel like they’re cracking and what will she do if she does find another tribute? Her act is important, but so is staying alive. Then again, Gale may need her help. She isn’t in love with him, but she doesn’t want him to die. If he does need her, she can’t abandon him.

“Madge,” Gale says and relief quivers in every letter. He emerges from the trees ahead of her and she can tell by the frantic look on his face that he was just as afraid as she was. Her hands jump to her mouth and honest moisture burns in her eyes. 

“You’re okay,” she breathes, “you’re okay.” They walk into each other, their arms tugging each other in close. She inhales him into her lungs, woods and winter and apples. There are no kisses, no declarations of love and maybe they don’t need them. The best lies are the ones closest to the truth and maybe they aren’t in love, but the relief is real and true. They stay that way for a long time, but finally, after her heart has stopped thumping painfully, they break apart. He rubs a gloved thumb over the tear streaks on her cheek and she smiles tremulously. 

“We should get back to camp,” he says and she nods. They hold hands as they pick their way through the forest and Madge thinks suddenly of their loved ones back home. Do they believe this ruse? Do they think they’ve secretly been yearning for each other all this time? Well, Katniss probably doesn’t. They've never interacted without Katniss present and she must know there’s nothing between them. 

“Did you find any berries?” he asks and she nods, pulling herself back into the moment.

“Yeah. And you?”

“Two squirrels. It’s not much, but it’s better than jerky.”

They are quiet the rest of the way back and she can’t help but think on the cannon blast. Someone is dead, but who? One of the remaining four careers would be nice, which is awful of her to think, but she can’t help it. This is the game and these are the rules. Hopefully it wasn’t the girl from Eleven. They reach their little outcropping of rock and Gale looks around with a frown.

“What’re we going to do about firewood?”

“There was a bundle of it in the cave, maybe there’s some here too,” she offers and Gale frowns a little deeper.

“Maybe not, this might not be a designated shelter spot. I mean it’s not exactly ideal.”

“It could be hidden, like the plants,” she says and bends down to start digging. She searches through the snow all around their shelter and emerges victorious. Her fingers find a bundle wrapped securely in a thick, watertight tarp. She grins and unties it, revealing wood and pine needles. 

“Damn, good thinking,” Gale says and she beams up at him. He takes the wood to start a fire and she spreads the tarp on the ground so they can sit on it. It’ll be dry and probably warmer than sitting directly on the ground. Gale begins readying the squirrel once the fire starts to crackle and she fills the water bottle up with more snow. She sits on the tarp when she’s done, throws the blanket over herself and holds up a corner for Gale to join her. He does and hands her a stick with a squirrel on the end. Her eyes widen and something unhappy happens in her stomach. She’s never eaten meat that still looks like an animal before and she knows she has to, otherwise it’s starvation, but there’s something of the person she’s no longer allowed to be revolting within her. 

“Something wrong?” Gale asks and Madge feels embarrassment flood her face.

“Um...no. No, I...I’m just not used to eating meat that...that still looks like an animal.”

Gale is quiet and she can imagine exactly what he wants to say. _I suppose being the mayor’s daughter does have its perks,_ in a sarcastic, biting tone that would make her burn to snap back. It’ll be her pretty dress all over again but Gale doesn’t say that. Of course he doesn’t. They have an act to perform.

“I could probably make it look less squirrelly if you want,” he offers and she is both surprised and somehow more embarrassed.

“No, no, I can manage,” she insists and he looks at her with a slight frown. 

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” she says even though she isn’t and it’s surprise in his eyes now, surprise perhaps that she is willing to try or that she isn’t making him fix this or maybe something else. She doesn’t ask. They push together for warmth and toast their squirrels, passing the water bottle between them. He hands it back to her and his eyes linger on her chest.

“You wore that as your token?” he asks and she looks down at her pin. She nods.

“Yeah, it was my Aunt Maysilee’s. It was her token when she was reaped.” She looks back up at Gale and his eyes widen. Oh, she realizes, he’d thought that story was another lie cooked up to win sponsors from the Capitol. She smiles faintly.

“My mother gave it to me at my first reaping. She said if I wore it, I’d be safe. Aunt Maysilee would keep me safe.” It’s a bittersweet memory and she aches suddenly for her mother. Gale is quiet and she wipes at the tears starting to form in her eyes.

“And what about you?” she asks. “What’s your token?”

Gale hesitates for a moment and then rolls up his right sleeve. He lifts his wrist and there’s an old watch there, the glass cracked and dusty. It’s still working though and she can’t be sure if the time here matches the time in Twelve, but back home it’s 3:42 pm. She bites her lip.

“It was my dad’s,” Gale says quietly and Madge finds sympathy sharp within her. She doesn’t know what to say and Gale unfastens the watch before he holds it back side up in his palm. He shows it to her and carved into the metal are the letters G, R, V and P. Gale looks down at those letters and his voice is soft.

“He never got the chance to add the P, for Posy, so I did.,” he murmurs and her heart shakes in her chest. There is nothing she can say but she puts her hand over his, the watch pressed between their palms. They both have families they love waiting for them and she wishes going home to hers didn’t mean stealing him away from his. Gale stares down at their hands and though she knows it’ll make things harder later, she is glad for this glimpse of the real Gale peeking through all their lies. She’s always known, intellectually at least, that he must have a heart, but this is the first time she really sees it. Her fingers slide through his and if she does make it home, she’ll make sure his family is taken care of. It won’t be enough, it could never be enough, but it’s a start.

“I wish I’d gotten to know them better, your family,” she says and she thinks she might mean it. Gale’s eyes lighten with surprise. She leans her head on his shoulder. “Tell me about them.”

He nods and a smile tugs at his mouth as he thinks of them. It might be the nicest smile she’s ever seen on him.

“Well, Rory’s twelve and has a wild imagination. You should hear the stories he comes up with. He tells them to you and you know there’s no way they’re true but he says them with such conviction you find yourself almost believing him. He takes full advantage of that,” Gale laughs and she finds herself grinning too. “He’s got a real knack for getting into trouble, but he always manages to squeeze his way out of it. Vick’s very jealous of that. And I’m gonna regret saying this out loud since I’ve been denying it for years, but he’s funny, Rory. He can always get you to laugh, no matter what. And he loves to tease, me especially. Course, we don’t let him get away with it. You should see the colour he turns.” Gale’s laughter trails off and he turns serious. “And I know that if I don’t make it back, he’ll do everything he can to help Mom out. He’s only twelve, but he can be really grown up when he needs to be.”

What Gale doesn’t say, but what she can see in his eyes is how much he wishes Rory never had to be grown up. There’s anger there and a haunting of failure. He’s the big brother and if Rory’s had to grow up too fast, he feels like it’s fault. It isn’t, it’s living in Panem that’s the problem and she squeezes his hand. She can’t say that out loud but she wishes desperately that she could. 

“Vick’s ten and it’s funny, because he and Rory are best friends, but they’re nothing alike. Rory’s a frighteningly good liar, he’s outgoing and born to be trouble, but Vick can’t lie to save his life, he’s really shy and as Rory’s always whining, he’s quite the goody two shoes. He’s also got this weird fascination with living underground, he’s always trying to convince Rory to help him dig all these tunnels in the yard, not that Mom would ever let them. And he’s a romantic is Vick, and by that I mean any girl that’s nice to him is in fact his one true love. Until a different girl is nice to him that is. Then it’s her. A romantic, but maybe a little fickle,” Gale says and Madge giggles. He leans his head against hers.

“Posy’s only four, but she’s got plenty of personality. Her favourite colour’s bright pink, she’s stubborn but she’s so sweet you let her get away with it. I don’t think I could ever be mad at her, no matter what she does. She loves to play princesses but only if the princess is allowed to help slay the dragon. And she’s got this doll, Lily, and she takes her everywhere. They’re never apart and yet, when we said goodbye, Posy offered to let me take Lily with me. She cries usually if you try to take Lily away from her, even just to wash her, but she just handed her to me because she thought I’d need Lily more than she would.” There’s a catch in his voice and Madge’s heart is cracking into fifty different pieces in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and she is. She is so, so sorry.

If only sorry was enough.

* * *

Some Capitol sponsor is so touched they receive a steaming container of hot chocolate. It’s delicious, it’s warm but it doesn’t soften the sorrow in his eyes or the misery in her chest.

Their loved ones are waiting for them but no matter how hard they fight, at least one of them will never go home. Maybe both of them. 

The Capitol must be delirious with joy. This is the tragedy they wanted after all.

* * *

They finish their hot chocolate and maybe to escape the melancholy pushing down on both of them, Gale asks “How do sponsors decide what to send?”

Madge frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, can they send anything they like? Or is there a list they have to choose from?”

She thinks about it and realizes she has no idea. “I don’t know. Some of the stuff they send is pretty specific.”

“Yeah, but is that because the gamemakers have good foresight? Or because people can send whatever they want so long as they pay for it? Like, if someone wanted to send us Effie’s wig, could they?”

Madge grins despite herself and though joking around together is probably a bad idea in the long run (it is), she finds herself saying “Is that why you’re asking? You want someone to send you Effie’s wig?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh yeah. Every time a parachute drops, I hope and hope and hope that’s what it’ll be.”

She smiles in earnest now and the image in her head pushes giggles from her throat. “You could totally pull it off; you definitely have the bone structure for it.”

“You think so?” he asks and flutters his eyelashes. Madge nods and it’s hard to get words out around her laughter.

“Oh, for sure. I think you’d look great in the one with the big bird. You’re both outdoorsy.”

“I was thinking the butterfly one myself, as we’re both very delicate,” he says and Madge laughs loud into the hands pressed to her mouth. Gale’s serious, earnest expression fluctuates with a grin.

“Oh yes please,” she wheezes. “I really need someone to send you that wig.”

“Right? I think wearing it would really make me braver. Give me the strength to fight on.”

Madge can’t say anything for a moment, the image of him prowling through the forest in Effie’s wig making her giggle so hard she nearly falls over.

“And you could wear the bird one; it’d go great with your pin,” he says and she gasps.

“We could match!”

“All the other tributes would be so jealous,” he says in an attempt at sympathy before his own laughter finally breaks through. He snorts, she giggles and whoever could have imagined she’d ever sit around laughing with Gale Hawthorne? She never would’ve, but if today’s taught her anything, it’s that Gale has a personality that extends beyond angry and hostile. In fact, it’s not a bad one at all. 

It’s kind of...nice.

* * *

It was the girl from Eight that died in the morning and they watch her face shine against the stars. 

“Only twelve left,” Madge says and Gale nods.

“Halfway there.”

Madge closes her eyes and tries not to think of all the grieving families spread across Panem. If she does, she might say something unforgivable. 

“I think...I think I’ll go to sleep,” she murmurs and Gale nods. It’s cold in their not-really-a-shelter shelter and Gale’s smothered the fire so they don’t attract attention. The tarp helps, the blanket helps a bit more and Gale pulls her into his chest. He rubs her back and his voice is full of heat when he says “I can keep you warm.”

She doesn’t roll her eyes even though she wants to and instead snuggles deeper into his embrace. It’s cozier like this and just what the audience wants to see. They’d been honest with each other today, but now it’s back to lying for the camera. That’s better anyway, safer.

Madge closes her eyes and lets his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

* * *

Madge wakes up on her own and the first thing she sees is Gale. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are dark and he stares into the shadows with his anger bright across his face. He’s been so good at keeping it hidden, but it makes sense that it slips through in quiet, unguarded moments like these. It’s such an intrinsic part of him and now that it’s not pointed at her, she feels her own anger resonating with it. 

She wants to say something, but there is nothing she can say while the Capitol watches their every move. If she keeps quiet, the audience might well believe he’s only angry that their love story must have such a tragic end. She can’t shatter that illusion.

Still, she feels his rage in every beat of his heart against her cheek and hers burns steadily on within her, the both of them united in more than just a desire to survive. It seems hard to believe, but it’s true. 

She and Gale Hawthorne might not be such opposites after all.

* * *

It’s just after dawn when Gale jerks awake, his breathing harsh and his eyes wide and panicked. He looks at her like he isn’t really seeing her and Madge’s heart squeezes at the terror on his face. He looks young, so young and she hates the Capitol. She hates them all. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers and he stares at her. “It’s okay,” she repeats and slowly recognition drowns out the panic in his eyes. She reaches out but he pulls away, his eyes focused on anything but her.

“I’m fine,” he says and rolls over, his back to her. Madge frowns. 

“Gale-”

“I’m fine. It was-”

“A nightmare? There’s no shame in having a bad dream, Gale,” she says and runs a hand down his back. “Especially not here.”

He doesn’t answer and she wonders what his nightmare was about. The bloodbath? The death most probably awaiting them? The people he’ll probably have to kill to get home? There’s so much to be afraid of now, it could be anything. He has nothing to say but his body relaxes as she rubs his back, just like her parents used to do when nightmares would wake her up. She strokes his hair until he falls back asleep and if only bad dreams were all they had to worry about.

But this the Hunger Games and in here, all your nightmares are real.

* * *

On their third day in the arena, the gamemakers apparently decide they’ve had things too easy. Or maybe they just remember that their romance is only so engaging because it’s bound to end in tragedy. Either way, engineered danger finds them on day three.

They’ve been searching for a new place to rest for what Gale’s watch says has been just over an hour when he flinches.

“Shit,” he curses and Madge frowns. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t know, something just hit me,” he says as he turns to face her. “It’s-ow!”

Madge’s eyes widen but before she can say anything, something needle sharp digs into her ear. She claps a hand to it. “Ouch!” She frowns and then watches as a tiny dagger of ice hurtles from the sky and leaves a thin red line across his forehead.

“Fuck!” he swears and throws his hands up over his head. “It’s hail. We need to get out of here.” Madge nods and tries to shield herself from the hail, but soon it’s coming down faster and thicker, hammering into her arms and cutting at any exposed flesh. She ducks and they run, the chunks of falling ice growing bigger as they go. A piece the size of a cherry smacks Gale in the back of the head and then one the size of an orange whacks into her wrist. It shoots pain through her whole arm and she bites down on her tongue to muffle a scream. They turn right into the trees, but it does nothing to protect them. Instead a piece of hail crashes into the tree beside her with a horrific _crack_ and she flinches away, but soon all she can hear is the splintering of wood. And then, suddenly, something the size of a human fist punches into her shoulder with such force it knocks her to her knees. This time she does shout in surprise and Gale, who’s longer legs had pulled him ahead of her, turns back to see her.

“Madge!” he calls and her eyes widen as a sharp piece of ice slices through his cheek. 

“Fuck!” he bellows and claps a hand to the wound, blood spurting out between his fingers. Madge tries to stand but before she can, a hunk of ice collides with the back of her head, the momentum pushing her face first into the snow. More hail continues to fall like nails into her every inch and then Gale hauls her up to her feet. There is still blood oozing from his face, from several parts of his face and they start running again, her head aching, her shoulder throbbing and stars dancing at the corners of her vision. Gale buckles beside her and she grabs his arm to drag him onwards. The hail brings down a tree branch to their right and they turn to the left, desperate for anywhere to take cover. Ice the size of a cannonball smashes through a tree behind them and suddenly Gale falls into the snow, though she can’t be sure if he’s tripped or was knocked over by the insane hail. Madge winces as the ice beats into her and pulls him up by his arm. And that’s when she sees salvation.

“There!” she shouts and pulls Gale after her. They hurl themselves into the cave and she lands so hard on the stone floor it knocks the air from her lungs. 

“Fuck, holy fuck,” Gale says and then a chunk of ice as big as her head smashes right at the entrance of their cave. “What the fuck,” Gale growls and drags her in deeper. She sits up and the whole room spins, the vision in her left eye fuzzy. She closes it and feels a little less nauseous. 

“Your face,”she says because her one good eye can see just how much blood seems to be all over his face. “We need to fix your face.”

“No, let me see your head first,” he counters and it suddenly occurs to her that they have no bandages, gauze or even spare fabric. All they have are the clothes on their back and though those are filled with new tears and rips, they still need them. The blanket too. Gale takes advantage of her pondering and comes around to check her head. He pulls off his gloves and though his fingers are gentle, she still hisses in pain as he touches her. 

“Sorry. Damn it, I need something to stop the bleeding.”

Madge knows that, but what can they use? Everything they have is needed to keep them from freezing and her eyes widen as she glances at the mouth of the cave.

“Look!” she says and Gale whips his head around to see a container crash to the ground outside their tent, its silver parachute full of holes. Gale rushes out to get it, his gait awkward enough to suggest he’s hurt his leg, and swears as the ice attacks him. He comes back over with fresh cuts on his gloveless hands and Madge opens the container with shaking fingers.

“Bandages! And gauze!” she says in excitement and Gale laughs in relief. He pulls the water bottle from his pack and grabs a piece of gauze.

“This is probably gonna hurt, but I have to wash it,” he says and she nods. She tilts her head so he can pour water on it without it spilling down her back and it stings, it really, really stings. She bites her lip and digs her nails into her palms. “Sorry,” Gale apologizes and she reaches into her bra to grab the herbs stored there.

“Here, crush these up and sprinkle them in the wound before you bandage it,” she says and her hand is shaking as she passes him the herbs. He takes them and she hisses out a breath when he presses the gauze against her head. She hands him a bandage and he winds it around her skull, tight enough that the gauze can put pressure to stop the bleeding. It aches and she feels nauseous again.

“Now, your face,” he says and she shakes her head. It is hard to get out words around the lump in her throat but she manages.

“Your face is worse,” she says and he looks like he wants to argue but must know he can’t. He sighs in defeat and she takes the water and a piece of gauze. She wets it and wipes as gently as she can at his face, his jaw clenching. She knows it hurts but she has to clean his many, many cuts. The worst is the deep one on his cheek, blood still steadily leaking out of it. 

“I think it’ll scar,” she tells him honestly as she sprinkles more herb into it. He grimaces but tries to smile. 

“It’ll make me look ruggedly handsome though, right?” he quips and she smiles despite herself.

“Oh yes, very dashing,” she promises and uses the little roll of tape they’ve been given to fix the gauze on his face. They attend to their more minor injuries after that, his hands, her face, the back of his neck, the bruise on her shoulder they can do nothing but sigh about and the lump forming on the back of his left calf. There’s nothing they can do about that either and he shrugs it off. 

“It’ll be fine,” he says and she opens her eye only for everything to still be very fuzzy. Fear hardens in her stomach and she fashions herself an eye patch from the leftover bandages and gauze. Hopefully the fuzziness will fade, but until then she can’t keep her eye closed forever. 

“What’s wrong with your eye?” Gale asks in concern as she ties on her eye patch.

“I...I can’t really see,” she admits and his face is grim. She tries to smile. “It might get better,” she says and he nods.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The hail continues to rain down outside their cave and Gale locates the bundle of firewood in the back corner of the cave. He winces with every step and if someone came upon them now, they’d be in trouble. Neither one of them’s in fighting shape. 

“I guess it’s jerky and berries for lunch...ugh, and dinner. I can’t hunt anything now,” he says and she nods. He starts on the fire and there might be another way to get food. She wraps her arms around him and presses her cheek against his back. 

“You shouldn’t have come back for me. You should’ve just left me,” she says and he tenses in her arms.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“When I was knocked down, you should’ve just kept going. You were hurt because of me and-”

Gale turns around and glares at her. “Shut up, okay? Leave you behind? I could never leave you behind. How could you even say that? Your life is more important to me than any scar or cut or injury.”

Madge looks up at him and wishes she could force herself to cry. “If someone attacks now, we’re vulnerable. But you might not have been, if you’d left me.”

“Fuck, Madge, I don’t care about that.”

“You should,” she interrupts and his eyes widen. “I love you and I don’t want you to die. And if you died because of me? I could never survive that Gale, I couldn’t.” He looks at her for a long moment before he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers. 

“And yet you think I could just leave you to die? You have to know I could never do that.”

She nods and they stay like that until some heartwarmed sponsor sends them a hearty stew. Romance equals rewards.

* * *

The Capitol cares enough about them to root for them, to spend money to feed them and to cheer them on, but they still sent them and twenty two other children off to their death with a smile and a roar. 

It’s a wonder she can keep the food down at all.

* * *

Right before she falls asleep Gale whispers quietly in her ear, so quietly only she can hear him. “I meant that Madge. I could never leave you to die. I know we both can’t make it, I know one of us has to die, but like I said before, I won’t be the one that kills you. And leaving you to die when I could save you counts. You could have left me when I fell, so why didn’t you?”

Madge tightens her grip on him and closes her eyes. “You know why. I could never let you die either.”

He nods, they snuggle and she wishes he hadn’t told her that. It would be so much easier for both of them if they could pretend any care or kindness was just an act.

Only one of them makes it out of this. But the more they care, the kinder they are, the worse that will be.

* * *

Gale wakes with a shout and thrashes around so wildly he nearly hits her in the face. His breathing is fast and shallow, his eyes terrified and she grabs his face with both hands.

“It’s okay, Gale it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay.”

It takes him a moment to find his way back to her and she just keeps saying it over and over again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Madge,” he rasps and his breathing starts to slow, but not enough. “I...sorry,” he says and she shakes her head. 

“Don’t be sorry.” She is firm and she pulls him into her arms. She holds him until the shaking stops. “Don’t ever be sorry.”

* * *

The hail lasts all night but is thankfully over by morning.

“Finally,” Gale says. “I was afraid I’d never get the chance to piss.”

“Delightful,” she says with a roll of her eyes and he grins as if last night never happened. She supposes she can’t blame him. The horrors never end, dwelling will just pull you under.

Gale stands and it’s hard for him, she can tell by the way he clenches his teeth. He shuffles outside and he leans heavily on his left leg, his right one stiff. Madge frowns and is frowning still when he rejoins her. Her head still aches, her shoulder is sore and when she peels pack her eyepatch, her vision is still too blurry to be of any use. Panic flutters between each of her ribs but she can’t think about that. She can’t. 

“Berries for breakfast?” he asks with barely concealed strain in his voice and it’s a struggle for him to sit down with his bad leg. Madge frowns deeper but doesn’t say anything. She hands him his half of her stash and can’t miss the relief on his face when he sees they aren’t the bitter green ones. Despite herself, she feels the beginnings of a smile on her lips. He hadn’t complained once when they’d eaten them yesterday, but his nose had scrunched up as he chewed so very, very slowly. She doesn’t blame him; they had been gross. 

Of course, today’s red berries are sour, quite sour, and though he doesn’t say a word, his eyes widen and his nose scrunches up again and it shouldn’t be cute, but it kind of is. Madge grimaces as she eats her own and his gaze settles on her still on eyepatch. Thankfully he doesn’t ask about it and they drain the water bottle in a sadly useless attempt to wash the taste from their tongues. Madge gets more snow outside and Gale packs up, or starts to, his bad leg limiting his movement and making him slow. Madge puts the bottle back in his bag and bends down to help him finish up the packing, his expression as sour as their berries. She rolls her eyes. Boys and their pride. 

She wishes they could stay here today, but she knows that’s not an option. She has no doubt the gamemakers conjured that storm yesterday to spice things up; they can’t afford to sit around. They might send something even worse next time. 

“Are you okay to walk?” she asks and Gale frowns.

“Of course,” he says and sounds genuinely offended she even asked. Her eyebrows go up.

“Really?”

He glares. “Yes, my leg’s fine. It barely hurts.”

Madge doesn’t believe that for a second and jabs him in the back of the leg.

“Ow! Fuck,” he yelps and she stares at him. He scowls.

“Fine, it hurts okay? It’s bruised, but it’ll be fine.” He is adamant but she still doesn’t believe him. She doesn’t know if it’s pride or stubbornness or something else that makes him think he has to be tough, but it’s annoying and she wishes he wouldn’t.

“I thought we promised we’d be honest with each other,” she says and folds her arms over her chest. His scowl deepens.

“What? You want me to say it hurts like a bitch and the lump on the back is so big I might be growing another leg?”

“Yes.”

Gale rolls his eyes. “Fine. It hurts like a bitch and the lump on the back is so big I might be growing another leg. Happy?”

“Very,” she says and stands. She holds out at a hand and he makes a face.

“I can stand on my own,” he glowers, his voice riddled with annoyance. Madge rolls her eyes.

“Maybe I just want to hold your hand,” she says and his glare is unimpressed. She smiles as sweetly as she can and his expression only grows fouler. Eventually though, he caves and she tries very hard not to smirk in triumph. He takes her hand and she pulls him up, the grimace on his face telling her all she needs to know about his leg. She shoulders the pack this time and they step outside together.

“Damn,” Gale says as they see the mess the storm’s left behind. She nods. The ground is littered with broken trees and hunks of ice, even the bodies of dead animals struck down by the hail. Gale bends down awkwardly to examine one.

“These guys are so mangled I’m not even sure it’s worth taking them with us. Too bad,” he says and she helps him stand back up. She keeps hold of his arm, ostensibly because she loves him and wants to stay close, but really to keep him steady. Hopefully the swelling on his leg will go down soon. Hopefully her eye will work soon. Hopefully, hopefully.

* * *

It’s slow going with Gale’s leg but after a few hours of walking they find a suitable cave. They split up as they always do, Gale to hunt, she to gather fruit. Madge wanders off to the south and all she finds is grass, grass and maybe moss. She crawls through the snow in frustration and the wind stings her cheeks and forehead. Her hood is useless as usual and there has to be fruit somewhere, but where?

“Agh, shit, fuck!” 

It’s Gale’s voice, loud and alarmed, and her heart stops. What she should be thinking about is her own safety, whether or not she should take the risk of going to see if he’s alright and what she’ll do if she does go and finds him pinned down by another tribute. She doesn’t think about any of those things. All she can think of is the way his nose scrunches up when he eats something gross, the softness of his voice when he speaks of his family, the look of wonder he’d worn when he’d eaten strawberries and cream for the first time and the unbelievable volume of his snoring. She is up and running before she can even decide to, her legs carrying her back to where she’d last seen him. She hurries after his footsteps and they lead to a downward slope. She peers down it and there he is, splayed out at the bottom and swearing. Her eyes widen.

“Are you okay?” she calls and he flinches. He twists around so he can look up at her and his face is dark with embarrassment. 

“Yes. Fine,” he grumbles and she frowns in sympathy.

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’m fine,” he insists and manages to stand after what seems to be a massive struggle. He sees her still hovering at the top of the slope and scowls. 

“Look, I’m fine okay? I’m not hurt, just humiliated. You can go back to your fruiting.” 

Madge watches him drag himself off into the trees and their time in the arena has taught her many things about Gale she never knew. He can be sweet, sentimental and funny. The fact that he is prideful and stubborn on the other hand? That she’d already guessed. She shakes her head and returns to her search. The ground here is far more fruitful, several different options buried under the thick, wet snow. She takes a bit of each (well, not the bitter ones) and stuffs her pocket until it’s bursting. It takes both hands to zip it up and she stands, brushing the snow from her knees as she does. Should she sit here and wait for Gale? Go back to their cave? Go find him in case he needs help? Well, he’ll definitely need it to get back up here, even though he’ll deny it. Madge rolls her eyes and that’s when she hears the scream.

It’s not Gale this time, but thin, high pitched and terrified. Her blood turns to ice and she should stay away, she knows she should, but she can’t. This is not a game for compassion or kindness, and yet, she can’t get the sight of little Eleven’s smile out of her mind. She is an idiot, she is stupid and she runs. She charges to the edge of the slope and there, where Gale had fallen, is Eleven. She is screaming in pain, in fear and there’s a spear through her stomach. Madge claps her hands to her mouth. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. 

Logic and sense are probably saying that she should stay where she is, that she should leave Eleven to die because she has to die eventually and also that whoever threw that spear is probably nearby. She doesn’t hear any of that. Horror, thick like syrup and white hot, fills her top to bottom and she slides all the way down the slope without taking her eyes off Eleven. She is small, so small, and the snow all around her is already turning red. Madge drops to her knees beside her and she’s never seen so much blood before. She gags. Eleven whimpers and Madge strokes her hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says even though it isn’t and then a cannon booms. Her heart leaps out of her chest but when she looks down at Eleven, she looks back with eyes wide with terror but also life. The relief is scalding but brief. Madge looks around the clearing with panic in her lungs and there, on her blindside, is the boy from One. He is lying face down in the snow, a knife by his limp fingers, red stains spreading out around him and an arrow in his back. There is ice where her heart should be. He was going to kill her and she hadn’t even seen him. She wouldn’t even have known and then she’d have been dead. It’s hard to breathe, fear creeps through her bones and she lifts her head. Gale stands between the trees, his bow still up and she can see her terror reflected in his eyes. They stare at each other until Eleven whimpers again. Madge focuses back on her. 

The scarlet stain spreads outwards, tears streak down Eleven’s cheeks and that spear, that spear is killing her. There has to be some way to fix this, to save her, but how? Eleven reaches for her and Madge grips her hand.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be alright,” she promises and her eyes burn. She pulls off her jacket with shaking hands and tries to use it to staunch the bleeding. 

“Push down on this, push down,” she tells Eleven and then grasps the spear. She has to take it out and then...and then...Eleven shakes her head and she is growing so weak, her head falling back into the snow and her fingers going limp.

“Madge,” Gale says in a pained voice but she ignores him.

“Stay with me, please stay with me,” she begs and then _boom_. 

Madge flinches and “No,” she whispers. “No, no, please no. Wake up, please wake up,” she begs but Eleven just lies there with glassy eyes. 

“Madge, we need to go,” Gale says but she shoves away his hand. There is a storm in her, a storm of sorrow and fury and outrage. Eleven shouldn’t be dead. The Capitol shouldn’t have killed her. She is twelve, she is twelve, no twelve year old should be dead. How can they do this? How can they watch this and cheer? Monsters. Monsters, monsters, _monsters._ Burn them, burn them all.

Madge shakes all over as she pulls out the spear and hurls it away, the tears spilling down her cheeks. This isn’t right, this isn’t fair. Her fingers tremble as she closes Eleven’s eyes and she could be sleeping, but she isn’t. She’s been murdered. Madge pulls away her jacket and uses the snow to wash the blood from the corner of Eleven’s mouth and the dirt smudged up her cheek. Her hands quake as she arranges Eleven’s hair and then holds her hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I never should have let you walk away that first day. I’m so sorry.” 

The air hums with approaching hovercraft and Gale grabs her arm. “We need to go,” he says and hauls her up. He pulls her behind the trees and she can’t take her eyes off Eleven. She is so small, so peaceful except she’s lying in a bed of crimson snow. That’s her life, spilled out where everyone can see. She’s dead, she is dead, she shouldn't be dead. 

The hovercrafts take away both bodies and Madge feels her legs fold up beneath her. She sits in the snow and her chest aches so terribly she wishes she could rip it open. The tears come hot and heavy and Gale kneels down beside her, his hands on her shoulders and his eyes staring into hers. He pulls her into his arms and as she sobs into his chest, she can feel his tears in her hair.

_fuck the Capitol, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them_

* * *

Somehow they make it back to their cave, but Madge doesn’t really remember how. She feels hollow and empty, like someone has taken something sharp and scraped out all her insides. Gale makes a fire and his eyes sit on her like stones. They’re still damp and he holds her hand and it doesn’t fill the hole inside her (only one thing can do that), but it does make her feel a little less numb. His jaw is clenched and there’s fire in his eyes, the same fire she can feel burning deep in her gut.

_fuck the capitol_

* * *

A silver parachute brings them bread. It’s dark, crescent shaped and sprinkled with seeds. 

“I’ve never seen bread like this before,” Gale says and neither has she. They eat it and all she can think of is Eleven’s smile. 

She deserved so much better.

* * *

Madge doesn’t look at the sky when the anthem plays, she doesn’t need to see the faces up with the stars. 

The boy from One, the girl from Eleven, two more dead, only ten left. They are that much closer to going home but it doesn’t feel like hope anymore.

It feels like rage.

* * *

She wakes up screaming.

Her cheeks are wet and Gale’s arms are strong around her.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe,” he says and she is choking on guilt and sorrow.

“She isn’t! She’s dead, she’s dead and I could’ve-”

“You did everything you could,” he interrupts and his voice is firm and certain. It doesn’t soothe her. She should’ve done more. He rubs her back and it makes her throb for home.

“I’m sorry,” he says with her guilt in his voice. “If I’d have gotten there faster-”

“No,” she whispers and she finds her arms wrapping around him. “It’s not your fault.”

And it isn’t. It isn’t even the boy from One’s fault, though she hates him. It’s the Capitol’s fault for making kids into killers. It’s always the Capitol’s fault.

Everyone is the enemy here, but no one more than the Capitol.

* * *

When Gale wakes up the next morning, she sits staring sightlessly at the wall. 

“You okay?” he asks and she isn’t, of course she isn’t, but she can’t say that. She has a part to play and lies to tell so she forces up a smile.

“Yeah,” she says and he sits up. He places his hand over hers.

“Madge,” he says so very softly and something loosens within her. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “I know I’m being stupid. The boy from One nearly killed me, I’m a mess and I didn’t even know her. These are the Hunger Games, I know what that means. I’m sorry, I just-”

“Hey, stop that,” he interrupts and his voice is fierce. She looks at him in surprise and his thumb, calloused and cool, wipes the tears from her cheek. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You’re a good person, you shouldn’t be ashamed of that.” 

_They shouldn’t be making you,_ he doesn’t say but she hears it anyway. His eyes glow and he’s been keeping his anger hidden, but it’s still there, hot, blistering, scorching. Condemnation threads through his every word and she feels that in the marrow of her bones. His hand is still on her cheek, the other holds hers and she’s used to being lonely. 

But here, right now, she’s never felt less alone.

* * *

They set out hand in hand but shelter proves elusive. Gale’s leg is better, thankfully, and though it isn’t back to one hundred percent, it’s getting there. Her eye’s just the same and she can’t think about the fact that it might never get better. She can’t handle that right now. They trudge through the snow and soon, heavy, wet flurries begin to fall from the sky. They hike valiantly on, but by the time they reach the edge of a deep, rocky ravine, they have to stop.

“Damn it. I know we haven’t found a place to camp yet, but we should get our food now before the snow gets too bad,” Gale says and she nods. He walks off and she bends down, the falling snow making her already poor visibility even worse. Her shoulder still hurts, though not as terribly, and the headache has calmed to a dull throb. They’re healing, slowly, but they are. She’s got to hold on to that and not think of everything else. Or anything else. 

“Madge,” Gale whispers and his voice is urgent. “Don’t move.” She freezes and her heart is so loud in her throat the whole arena must hear it. 

“What is it?” she asks in a hush and tries to keep her breathing steady.

“In the trees, there’s...an animal maybe. A big one.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, she turns her head. It takes her a moment with only one eye, but eventually she spots what he’s talking about. The gleam of eyes, a flash of too white teeth dripping with saliva. A tremor starts in her bones. Gale notches an arrow with quiet skill.

And then it attacks.

Madge is too scared to scream and the mutt, for it has to be a mutt, pounds its way towards them. It is huge and snarling, almost like a dog but feral and with teeth as long as her fingers. Gale lets his arrow fly. It sinks into the mutt’s neck but it doesn’t slow. Gale swears and shoots another and another and both hit, but the mutt doesn’t miss a step. Madge can’t breathe.

“Fuck, fuck,” Gale says and shoots again. This one hits the mutt in the head, but still it barrels towards them. Gale notches another arrow but it’s too late. Adrenaline, fear, desperation, they move her faster than she ever would have thought she could move and she is up on her feet, she is surging towards him and then she slams into him, using all her weight to push him out of the way. They land awkwardly in the snow and the mutt flies through where he’d been, a howl torn from its mouth as it plunges into the ravine. For a moment they stay tangled where they are with hearts hammering. 

“What the fuck? What the fuck!” Gale says and Madge nods. “I’m no Katniss but I hit that thing four times! It should’ve been dead, or at least slowed down.”

“They must have done something to it, to make it harder to kill,” she whispers and doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the fear. She shakes all over and all she can see are those teeth. Gale sits up and Magde rolls off him. He stands and offers her a hand. She takes it and he pulls her up, the two of them looking down into the ravine together. Down at the bottom lies the mutt, mangled and torn up by the rocks. Gale’s arrows lie with it, each one broken to bits.

“Fuck,” he says and she nods. That’s half his arrows. 

“We should go, in case there’s more of them. We should go now,” she says and squeezes his arm. He exhales angrily but nods. And then, as if her words had summoned them, they hear the howling. It echoes all around them and Madge feels her insides recoil. 

“Shit!” Gale swears and they run, their fingers knotted together. They don’t look back, they can’t afford to, but she can hear the snarling, the pounding of too many feet and the horrific howling. They are being hunted. Gale is slower than he should be with his injured leg and she is clumsy with only one eye. They stumble through the forest until they run straight into the base of a mountain. 

“Up there!” Gale shouts and she looks up to see, well it’s too shallow to be a cave, but there’s a dip in the rock deep enough for them both to lie down comfortably. That’ll be enough for now. 

“Go, go!” he insists and she’s not the best climber, but she’ll have to be if she wants to live. She scrambles up as fast as she can, the stones jabbing her in the legs and hands and stomach. It isn’t easy and Gale grunts below her, the snarling growing closer and closer. Terror makes it hard to breathe and her gloved fingers slip on a snowy rock, her heart punching a hole right through her chest. A mutt howls, too close, and she is shaking as she grabs hold of a different stone. She can’t stop, if she stops, they die. She heaves herself over the ledge to safety and reaches down for Gale, grabbing his arm and pulling as hard as she can. He swears in pain and she can see the mutts closing in, the pack of them rushing to the bottom of the mountain. She yanks again and Gale finally pulls himself to safety, the mutts jumping and snapping below them but unable to climb up after them. 

Madge can’t look away and Gale kneels beside her, his shoulder pressed into hers. They stay like that until the sun starts to set and the mutts give up. They drag themselves back into the trees and Madge and Gale collapse together. He shakes his head.

“Holy fuck,” he says and she nods. She can still hear the snarling even though the mutts are gone.

“Thank you,” he says and she looks over at him in confusion. “If you hadn't pushed me out of the way of that thing, I’d be dead. That mutt would’ve pushed me right into the ravine.”

Madge closes her eyes. “I don’t even want to think about that.” Gale grabs her hand.

“I...I’m glad you’re here. Shit, that sounds terrible. I mean...I’m not glad you’re here, but…” he trails off, unsure how to go on and she opens her eyes. They look at each other, long enough her heart starts to feel wrong in her chest. She looks away and tries to form words.

“I...I get it. Me too,” she mumbles and there is dread in her blood. Gale is still looking at her, she feels his eyes and he squeezes her fingers.

“And to think I once swore off girls forever,” he says with a shaky laugh and she looks up in confusion. 

“What?”

“Our neighbours, the Wellwoods, they have a daughter my age. Blye. When we were little she used to come over after school because both her parents worked in the mines. They didn’t want her home alone, so she’d come stay with us. We walked home together everyday and all the boys at school used to love to tease me about it. They’d make kissy noises and laugh and ask me when the wedding was. It was stupid but at seven it seemed horribly embarrassing. So one day when Parry Paddyfield made some crack about Blye being my girlfriend, I just snapped. I stomped my foot and I shouted that she wasn’t my girlfriend, that she was so gross and so were all girls! I didn’t want anything to do with them now or ever! And then Blye pushed me in a mud puddle, which I may have deserved.”

Without meaning to, without expecting to, she laughs. It bubbles out of her and Gale grins. 

“Maybe not the most auspicious beginning to my love life,” he admits and she giggles some more. It feels...good, soothing and his grin grows. 

“No, maybe not,” she agrees and something a little like sunshine touches her. She stares at him and his eyes are soft as he looks at her, his smile warming with every one of her giggles. It is sunshine touching her, a sunrise and her heart finds its way up into her throat.

He told that silly story to make her laugh, just to make her laugh. 

Oh, oh oh oh. Her heart bumps against her ribs and she has the strangest, strangest urge to reach out and touch his cheek. Gale Hawthorne is supposed to be an ass, angry and sullen and despising her. He isn’t, every day he proves he’s more than that and these are dangerous waters. Hating him would make everything so much easier and words come pouring out of her so she can avoid thinking about how her clever plan might carry one of them home, but at what cost?

“I swore off boys once,” she says and he quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I was seven too. I guess that’s a bad age. At school there was this boy, I’m not going to call him out on national television but he knows who he is, and he sat behind me. Everyday he’d pull my hair and it hurt and it was _so_ annoying. It made me so mad but he wouldn’t stop. I complained to my parents and my mom suggested that maybe he liked me. Sometimes when little boys like someone they’re mean to them she said and that made me _so_ angry. I swore right then that if that’s what boys were like, I wanted nothing to do with them. Never ever ever.”

Gale laughs and that shouldn’t make her warm, but it does. She never should have told him to be honest, they should have made up new personalities so they’d never run the risk of getting to know each other. They aren’t in love, they aren’t friends, they aren’t anything really, but she thinks maybe...maybe they could be something. It’s not just the Hunger Games pushing them together, it’s his personality, his smile and she knows they could have been something if only they’d gotten to know each other back home. They could be something here if there was some chance they could both make it home.

But they didn’t and they can’t.

They can’t and that potential, that almost, that stirring and could have been, it’s the worst thing in the world.

* * *

A cannon booms and breaks the moment. 

Her heart stumbles in her chest and his eyes widen just the slightest bit. Another tribute dead, that’s nine left.

Almost there.

* * *

The girl from Nine’s face fades into the sky and Madge hugs her knees to her chest.

“I missed this, the stars, when we were in the Capitol,” she says softly and he nods. “And you know, the people there, if they’ve never left then they probably have no idea what it’s like to look up at the night sky and see the stars.”

He is quiet and though she shouldn’t be, Madge is glad of his steady presence beside her.

“They have so many wonderful things, but they don’t have the stars,” she whispers and he nods again, his eyes fixed on the sky.

“They’re missing out,” he breathes and they are, they really, really are.

* * *

When she wakes up it isn’t with a scream or a flinch. It’s quiet and soft, but she can taste blood in her mouth. Her heart races, fear lives in her every breath and yet, calm is already settling over her. It takes her a moment, but then she recognizes the feel of fingers playing with her hair. It’s soothing, comforting and she doesn’t move. Terror is still pooling within her, but it isn’t so violent anymore.

Madge closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.

* * *

The sun is just starting to kiss the sky and in the pearlescent light, Madge looks over at Gale as he sleeps. There is a frown on his face and he keeps shifting around, all his muscles too tense. His expression tightens and without really thinking about it, she strokes the hair from his forehead. 

Her fingers move through the strands and slowly, ever so slowly, his tension lessens.

* * *

Their sixth day in the arena is quiet and calm. 

No one dies, no cannons boom and lying side by side in their new cave after they’ve eaten, they do something very foolish. They start to talk. They shouldn't, the last thing they should be doing is getting to know each other, but things are calm now and they are stupid, so very, very stupid. There’s nothing else to do and they’d decided long ago to be honest. Idiots. Idiots, idiots, idiots.

His favourite colour is dark blue, hers lavender. She’d really like to have a cat but he thinks a dog sounds more fun. She thinks she’d have liked to have a sibling and his first kiss was at fourteen with Daffy Cowden and she’d told him to his face it was awful.

“We’ll you’re not awful now,” Madge promises him through her laughter and he grins before proving it with a kiss that curls her toes. They haven’t kissed in days and this one hits her like an avalanche. It’s a meltingly perfect kiss and she isn’t ready for the fever that consumes her, her arms moving of their own volition and wrapping around his neck. She pulls him closer and he’s nearly lying on top of her, his tongue making her dizzy. She’d forgotten how good he was at this, how overwhelmed her senses become and maybe it’s because it’s been days since the last, but this one is like a hunger inside her, yearning for more more, and she wants him to keep kissing her, to never stop, to run his hands over her and stoke the fire she can feel building beneath her skin.

And just like, the fire dies, the flames are doused and she is sick.

This is an act, a lie and he doesn’t want to kiss her. He’s doing it to survive, he probably hates it and he’d rather be kissing Katniss. The fact that any part of her enjoys this is wrong. Shame is a heavy shroud and maybe he feels her reluctance, because he pulls away.

“Mmm and to think, this morning I almost decided not to kiss you anymore,” he says and she ignores the question in his eyes.

“Why?” she asks and hopes she sounds breathless and maybe disappointed. They have to keep up the charade and she can’t lie here looking ill with herself.

“Well, it has been a very long time since you brushed your teeth,” he teases and laughs when her eyes widen and her cheeks turn cherry red. She covers her face with her hands.

“I’ve been trying very hard not to think about that,” she mumbles and he laughs again. “I’ve never gone this long without a proper wash.”

“Ah well, mayor’s daughter. I should’ve guessed you’d be high maintenance.” He’s teasing again and she shouldn’t rise to the bait, but she can’t help it. 

“An interest in proper hygiene isn’t being high maintenance,” she says as she drops her hands and he leans dangerously close. He traces one finger over her pout and he’s riling her up on purpose, she knows that. He grins and she has the strongest, most terrible urge to kiss it from his mouth.

“Have I hit a nerve, Miss Undersee?” he asks and she can taste his breath on her tongue.

“No, but I’m starting to get the impression you don’t care about hygiene the way I do. Maybe I don’t want to kiss you anymore,” she says and pushes him off her. He rolls away with a laugh.

“Ouch. I guess I deserved that.”

“You definitely did,” she says and sits up. She does want to kiss him again and that’s awful of her, she knows it is. They aren’t in love, this is an act, but parts of her can’t seem to remember that. It probably looks better for the cameras, she never has to fake her reactions, but it’s cruel to him, isn’t it? 

“Look!” he calls and she is infinitely glad for the parachute dropping just beyond the entrance of their cave. She doesn’t think she can properly play romance right now, not if it means kissing him and enjoying it even though he surely hates it. Gale fetches the sponsor gift and opens it up, revealing warm bread and soup. 

They eat it shoulder to shoulder and maybe her brilliant plan isn’t so brilliant after all.

* * *

They cuddle by the fire at night and Gale’s lips caress her ear so no one else can hear his words. 

“Are you okay? You seemed a bit...off before.”

Her heart is heavy in her chest and she readjusts herself, seemingly to get comfortable, but really so she can whisper in his ear. “I’m just...sorry. I’m sorry I locked you in this lie. I know you don’t want to be kissing me and cuddling, but now you’re being forced to. I’m sorry.”

“You know,” Gale says out loud so everyone watching can hear, “I think snuggling with you at night is my favourite part of the day.” She smiles as prettily as she can and he bends down to press his mouth to her ear.

“Don’t be sorry. It was a good idea and it’s what’s keeping us alive. I hate that they’re making us do this, I hate them, but I don’t hate you. I’m not mad at you. I agreed to do this and it’s not...it’s not like kissing you is something horrible I have to suffer through. There are way worse things I could be doing to stay alive. And I...I don’t mind kissing you.”

Madge nods and says for the Capitol, “You know, I think it’s my favourite part of the day too.”

“Good,” Gale says and kisses her head. She smiles and on one hand, his words have softened some of her guilt. But it can’t erase it. He might not hate kissing her, it might not be awful, but she’s sure he doesn’t enjoy it. This is their best chance at survival and she knows that.

Still, she wishes there was another way.

She wishes the Capitol could just let them live.

* * *

“One week,” she whispers to Gale when he wakes up. “We’ve been in here one week.”

He doesn’t say anything but fire burns in his eyes. He grips her hand and all the anger he’s had to bury glows bright within him. Rage isn’t popular with sponsors but his is still thriving within him, just waiting for a chance to come out.

She hopes he can see in her eyes that she is just as furious.

* * *

Just after lunch, a cannon booms. 

Madge breathes in sharply and struggles to breathe out. Sixteen dead, only eight of them left. The Capitol will be interviewing their families now and she looks across the fire at Gale. He smiles at her as he eats his rabbit and there is a noose tightening around her heart. It’s time to go. 

There are only six other tributes left; if they don’t want to have to kill each other, it’s time they split up. The sooner the better because the longer they linger, the more dangerous this becomes. She never wanted him to die, it always would have been upsetting, but the more time they spend together and the more she gets to know him, the more she aches. They can’t both make it out of this alive, she’s always known that, but it’s getting harder and harder to swallow. Goodbye has always been inevitable, but every time he smiles at her, tells her about his family or makes a stupid joke, she finds herself dreading it more and more. 

It always would’ve been hard, but it would’ve been easier when he was just Gale Hawthorne, the angry boy following Katniss around and wanting nothing to do with her. He’s so much more than that now and she never should’ve let him be. He’s Gale, her ally; Gale, who could definitely be her friend if things were different; Gale, the boy who snores impossibly loudly and has had to grow up too fast. He’s Gale, who makes her laugh, loves his siblings so fiercely and who scrunches up his nose when he’s eating something gross. Gale, whose hand she is growing too fond of holding, whose smile makes her insides feel funny and who is so annoyingly stubborn and full of pride. Gale, who likes dark blue, who came back for her when the ice knocked her down, who cried with her when Eleven died and who’s anger at the Capitol burns so well with hers.

Madge closes her eyes.

She’ll do it tonight.

* * *

They watch the boy from Six’s face fade into the sky and she takes a steadying breath. It’s time.

“Gale,” she whispers and he turns to look at her. She covers her face with her hands. “There’s only eight of us left, maybe we should...maybe...maybe it’s time we split up.” Her voice breaks over the words and there are genuine tears building in her throat. That’s good, the audience will expect her to cry. 

“Madge no,” he says and the misery in his voice is so very, very good. She shakes her head.

“I can’t watch you die, Gale, I can’t do it. I could never watch you die,” and it’s true, it’s so terribly true. Not because she’s been in love with him for years, but because he’s Gale and...and…

“No,” Gale says and his voice is fierce. He grabs her shoulders. “I love you, Madge. I can’t leave you. I won’t.”

This is an act, a good one and she is sure the audience is devouring it. It’s an act, a lie but the tears on her cheeks are real, the sorrow in her lungs is real and they need to break this alliance now.

“You have to, you have to Gale. There’s no other choice.”

He pulls her into his arms and wraps her up until all she can feel is him. His voice shakes. “There is. I love you and...and if you die, I won’t ever go home. It won’t be home without you. It can’t be. I want to stay with you until the end, even if that means dying.”

“Don’t say that,” she begs and she doesn’t want to say goodbye, she doesn’t but they have to. 

“It’s the truth. There’s no winning this without you.”

Madge grips the back of his jacket. “Your family-”

“They’ll understand. I love them and I love you. As much as I want to see them again, there’s no leaving without you. If you die, I’ll never leave here. You need to live, Madge. I need you to live,” he pleads and Madge sniffles into his arms. Her chest aches but everything is going perfectly to plan. He kisses the side of her head.

“I love you,” he says and she nods. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I...I won’t,” she lies for the cameras. “I love you too.” They stay like that, clinging and hugging, and his lips press against her ear.

“Madge,” he whispers and she knows this is not fake Gale, lying Gale, Capitol Gale performing for the audience. This is real Gale and she can’t hear what he has to say, she can’t. 

“Don’t say anything. It’ll be worse if you say something,” she breathes and he holds her a little tighter. She can feel her hair grow damp as he presses his face to it and she knows his tears aren’t fake either. 

This is goodbye and it hurts. It really, really hurts.

* * *

Madge waits until he falls asleep and pushes her fingers against her mockingjay pin. She knows what she has to do. 

“I’m sorry, Gale,” she says for the Capitol and tears burn her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I love you too much to let you die for me.”

This is better, she knows this is better, because watching him die...she can’t watch him die. This is the plan, this is what they agreed upon and it's the right thing to do. She kisses his forehead.

“Be safe,” she murmurs to his skin even though she knows she shouldn’t. Only one of them can go home and if it’s him, it can’t be her. Still, she doesn’t want him to die. He has to die, but she doesn’t want him to. This isn't fair.

She gathers up the tarp she’d taken from that bundle of firewood but leaves him everything else. She can’t look back at him and in the milky light of pre-dawn, she runs. She stumbles over things on her blindside, but she can’t stop. She needs to get away, far, far away.

They were supposed to work together and then part ways, neither one of them any more attached than they started. He was supposed to be angry, rude and want nothing to do with her. She was supposed to be aloof, distant and focused only on surviving and going home. What happened? How did everything go so wrong? To win, she needs him to die. To win, he needs her to die. That should have been enough to protect them, but somehow, it wasn't. She was stupid and now she'll pay the price.

She isn’t in love with him, they aren’t friends; she doesn’t know what they are or what he means to her, but she knows he means something. He means something and in the Hunger Games, that's the worst thing there is. But her parents are waiting for her, they will never survive her death. She’ll hold onto that and maybe, maybe it’ll be enough.

Madge runs and runs and runs, the sun rising over the snow covered arena and maybe she's left a piece of her behind.

_I hope we never see each other again Gale_


	3. a plague on all our houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they burn together

Madge runs until her legs quake and her lungs burn. 

The sun glows bright in the sky when she stops to catch her breath, the whole arena glittering like a million tiny diamonds. It’s almost blinding and she closes her eye against the glare. She leans back against a tree, her every exhale turns to smoke and how far had she run? Far enough that the Capitol will believe it when Gale doesn’t find her? The act isn’t over just because they’re apart and should she keep going? He needs to search but never find her and she needs to get far enough away that it’s reasonable for him to fail. 

The air is cold in her lungs and now that she’s stupidly let herself think of him, Gale slips all the way in. He grows like a weed in her chest, his roots wrapping around her ribs and tangling with her veins. Madge breathes deep and steady and tries to pull him loose and focus only on herself, but he doesn't go. He ties himself around her and tears sparkle on her cheeks, but survival’s at stake; she can’t let herself get distracted. Going home has to be her only objective and it doesn’t matter that Gale was her ally, her almost-friend, her...something, because he isn’t anymore. He can’t be. He’s her enemy now. 

It’s hard to swallow that, hard to breathe around that thought but it’s the truth. The quicker she accepts that, the better it’ll be. She’d been stupid enough to get attached, to let fondness creep in, but no more. She has to be strong now and she will. She will. Gale is the enemy. Enemy, enemy, _enemy_. Remember that. Whatever that something was she had felt growing between them, it’s dead now. It has to be. 

Madge pushes off her tree and buries Gale in the snow at her feet. He’s nothing to her, nothing at all.

She keeps walking.

* * *

It’s past noon when she decides she’s gone far enough. 

Snow begins to drift lazily down from the sky and she needs to find shelter. The clouds above are heavy, anything or anyone might find her out in the open and she didn’t make it this far just to freeze. She drags her feet slowly, from fatigue and caution both. She’s slipped and stumbled on enough things already; she can’t afford any serious injuries. Everything she does has to be smart from here on out; there’s no room for error. She’s alone against seven other tributes, the arena and the gamemakers. 

The odds are against her but then, they always were.

* * *

She wanders in the falling snow for quite some time (though without Gale’s watch she can’t actually tell how long) before she finally finds a place she can rest. It’s a shallow sort of cave, not perfect but good enough. She finds firewood half hidden in the corner and when she digs around outside, she discovers a large patch of sour red berries several feet to the left of the entrance. Survival's what counts so Madge gathers them up and then kneels down to start her fire, one thought thrumming through her. _I can do this._ It’s the only thought she’ll allow herself to have, the only one that isn’t dangerous or devastating. She has plenty of water, she can feed herself and she knows how to find shelter and firewood. Maybe she isn’t the flashiest of tributes, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is surviving and she will. She's going home.

She isn’t Gale, the fire doesn’t spring from her fingertips in moments, but soon enough she has sparks dancing on the pine needles. The fire is warm, bright and Madge wraps herself up in her tarp and eats her sour fruit. It makes her lips pucker and there’s a memory scrabbling to be let in, but she locks it out. She needs to stay firm, she needs to stay focused and memories of the last few days will only make that harder. She knows that, she does, but then a squirrel scurries by the mouth of her cave and again, memories push against the doors she’d locked. Everything in this frozen hell is tied up in everything she wants to forget and she should be stronger than this. She should be aloof and distant and divorced from caring, but she isn’t. She’s not sure she knows how to be.

Madge closes her eye and thinks of home, of her parents and Katniss. She thinks of her piano, of Merrie the cook and Mrs Sparrowsaw the housekeeper, thinks of the flowers in the meadow and the taste of strawberries. Victory won’t come cheap, but it’ll be worth it. It will.

_boom_

Madge nearly chokes on her berry and looks up at the sky, but of course there’s nothing there. There won’t be until tonight and she closes her eye again. Is it Gale? It might be better if it is, get it over with, but she doesn’t want that. She should, he’s the enemy and she needs him to die, but she’s not ready for him to die just yet. But then, will she ever be ready? After everything, will she ever be ready to see his face up amongst the stars?

As stupidstupidstupid as it is, she knows the answer.

No.

* * *

That night she dines on more berries and some edible leaves she mixes into a sort of salad. It’s not the most filling of meals, but it’s good enough. She chews and ideally the other tributes will finish each other off, but she knows she can’t count on that. She needs to start thinking about what she’ll do if she has to fight her way home. 

The anthem starts. 

Madge doesn’t breathe as she looks up at the sky, her heart suspended in her chest. The girl from Four, a career. Madge exhales and tears prickle at her eyes. 

“Oh Gale,” she whispers for the cameras and that means there’s only seven of them left. Six more gone, only two of them careers, and she can go home. What a hideous thought. Madge returns to her salad and can’t think of that. If she does, she might hesitate about winning, about going home. She can’t think of the bones she has to climb over. Instead, she fills her mind with the mockingjay on her chest. She is going to make it out of this.

The Capitol can’t have her.

* * *

Nightmares take her again tonight, but when she wakes with fear closing her throat and the taste of blood on her tongue, there’s no Gale to comfort her. 

Madge curls around herself in the dark and wonders if he’s as lonely as she is.

* * *

Madge wakes to the smell of smoke.

It tickles her nose and then she’s coughing. She sits up, she can’t stop coughing and as she opens her eye, it stings. The smoke wraps around her and she tries to fan it away with her hands, but it doesn’t go. And that’s when she sees it.

Fire.

The forest is on fire. 

The trees are on fire, the bushes are on fire, the very snow seems to be on fire. Madge stands. Oh no, oh no no no no no. She needs to run. 

She does.

The flames chase her as she sprints away and tiny little branches catch at her skin and clothes as she crashes through the trees. It’s hard to breathe, her eye waters and fire is everywhere. Where is she supposed to go? Heat pushes at her from every direction but she can’t stop to think or figure it out or plan. If she stops, she burns. Burns like everything else already is and she won’t die like this, she can’t. She _won’t_ and she leaps over a frozen creek, the trees crackling all around her. A smouldering branch crashes at her feet, she is terror and run, run, _run_. Don’t stop running. Running is survival.

Her left foot steps on something she can’t see with her useless eye and she stumbles. The fire kisses her back and she shrieks in surprise, a potent mix of panic and self-preservation forcing her back to her feet and on again. Horror devours her as her jacket burns and she’s on fire. She’s on fire but she can’t stop running. If she stops, it’s over. The flames are hungry, their jaws snapping to catch her and her hands shake and shake and shake as she hurriedly unzips her coat. It’s so hard to breathe, she coughs as the smoke claws its way inside her and she hurls away the burning remains of her jacket. Aunt Maysilee’s pin goes with it but she can’t think of that right now. The world is melting around her. 

And then she runs right off the edge of a hill.

* * *

Her feet meet air and for one suspended moment, she is electrified with pure, profound terror. It feels like every part of her is curling up inside her; fear a screaming, wailing thing alive in her every pore.

And then the world restarts and she tumbles forward, the breath knocked out of her as she rolls and falls and somersaults down down down. It’s disorienting, terrifying and painful as the world whirls and fire is still in every breath she takes. She lands in a heap, her face pressed into the snow and the bruise on her shoulder screaming. The pain is intense, so intense she can’t breathe. Agony fills her up, but it’s her head that worries her the most. She presses her fingers to her old wound and even through the bandages, they come away wet. Damn it.

She can’t worry about that now. She can’t, because there’s still a fire to contend with and she isn’t going to die here. She forces herself up on trembling arms and Agrippa had set their crowns and chariots on fire, hadn’t he? Fire can’t be what kills her, not when it’s what first made them love her.

Except they’d love that even more, wouldn’t they?

Her gut churns but when she looks up the hill she’d fallen down, she sees the fire hasn’t followed. It’s like a wall at the top of the hill, but it hasn’t slunk downwards. She feels no relief. She’s safe from the flames, but the gamemakers must have something else in store. If they’ve herded her here, there’s a reason for it. She stands and sways, her stomach tossing again. She needs to focus, she needs to be ready. She can’t let fear beat her. Her legs are weak but she moves as fast as she can, out of the open where anyone might see her.

“Fuck!” a voice howls from beyond the trees and no. No, no, please no. She watches in horror as Gale bursts from the forest into the clearing, his right arm on fire. Her heart stops. He flings himself down into the snow and rolls until he can smother the flames, the ground around him stained red. Madge doesn’t breathe.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans in agony and this is why the gamemakers herded her here. They want their lovers reunited and she should leave now, she should run and never look back. She can’t. There’s only one direction her legs are willing to move in and even though she knows she shouldn’t, even though it’s the stupidest possible thing she could do, Madge runs towards him. She pulls leaves from her bra and she’s going to suffer for this later. 

They both will.

* * *

She falls to her knees beside him and every single cell in her body screams _leave leave leave!_ She ignores them all. The rules are clear, she knows the game and she’s going to pay dearly for this. Compassion, kindness, attachment, they’re all weaknesses and she gives in to all of them.

“It’s okay,” she says in a quaking voice and he looks at her with pain clouded eyes.

“Madge?”

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” she promises and pulls off her gloves. She looks around and grabs a nearby stick, her blood roaring in her ears.

“Bite on this,” she tells him and he leans away from her because he must know too how very, very wrong this all is. She grabs his shoulder and holds him firm. “Bite on this,” she repeats and there’s no room for argument in her voice. Stupid yes, foolish and pathetic and idiotic yes, but she’s going to do this, no matter how much it’ll cost her later. His eyes are dark and she stuffs the stick between his teeth. He doesn’t want her help, she shouldn’t be giving it but it’s too late now. She can’t walk away. Her hands shake but she mushes up the leaves into a paste between her palms, the smell strong and pungent. His lungs rise and fall with heavy breaths and she squeezes his fingers.

“This is going to hurt, but I need to do it,” she says and begins dabbing her leaf paste onto his arm. He yells but it’s muffled by the stick in his mouth and she has to tear at the tattered remains of his jumpsuit and jacket to give herself better access to the burns. There are tears in her eyes as she coats his arm and then she pulls out more leaves and repeats the process until she runs out of leaves. She’s almost finished, but there’s still angry red and black skin that needs tending to. She’ll need to find more leaves, but first she pulls out the herbs from the other side of her bra and sprinkles them over the burns to keep infection at bay. He spits out the stick and his breaths are shallow and shaking, his skin takes on a frightening pallor and she strokes his hair. He glares at her.

“What the...what the fuck are you doing?” he demands and tears spill down her cheeks. She is so stupid. Neither one of them will thank her for this later. 

“I have to get more leaves, stay here,” she says and the fury on his face promises he won’t. He sits up as she stands, his breathing harsh and his chest heaving. She can’t even imagine how much pain he must be in. She hurries into the trees and kicks away all the snow she comes across, desperate to find the leaves she needs. It’ll be better if he leaves and she’s sure he’s trying to right now, standing and running through the agony because he knows like she does that she’s ruining everything. But if strength means letting him suffer and potentially die when she could help, if it means leaving Eleven to die all alone and terrified, if it means letting the Capitol twist her up into something she’d hate, maybe she doesn’t want to be strong. Or maybe she does, she can’t tell anymore. Nothing makes any sense.

She finds the leaves at the base of a tree and bends down to dig them up, her gloveless hands aching from the cold. She barely notices. The tears make it hard to see and _I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry Dad_ . _I know I should leave him, but I can’t. I’m so sorry._

Gale screams.

Madge’s whole body recoils and she’s heard him yell and shout and grunt but never scream. She runs. Is she breathing? She’s not sure and all she can think of is Gale, Gale who might be hurt, Gale who might be-

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” a mocking voice laughs and Madge skids to a stop just before she plows into the clearing. 

“District Twelve’s handsome hero,” that voice continues and Madge peers through the trees. Gale is lying in the snow clutching at his left leg and there’s a knife protruding from his calf, so close to the bone she’s sure they’re touching. The pain on his face is unimaginable and she wants to be sick. But that’s not the worst part. Standing several feet away from him is the girl from Two, twirling a knife in her hand. Her smirk is cruel, her eyes bright and she’s a career. 

“Cato!” she calls loudly and that must be her district partner. Terror is so stark Madge feels for a moment as if she might pass out. “Cato, I found him!”

Gale tries to sit up but as soon as he moves his leg just a little, he collapses with a curse. Two cackles.

“Ooo, does that hurt? I hope so. Where’s your girlfriend? Is she trying to find some help? Or did she abandon you when she realized you weren’t of any more use?”

Gale spits at her and Madge should be thinking about her odds of surviving an encounter with one (and maybe soon to be two) career(s), she should accept the fact that Gale has to die if she wants to see her parents again and maybe she should even be pragmatically planning to let Two kill Gale and then attacking her herself when she’s busy gloating. But there’s none of that in her. The only thought she has is _I have to save him._

“It’s too bad she’s not here, I was looking forward to making one of you watch the other die,” Two says and she’s smart to stay out of Gale’s reach. His bow is still lying where he’d fallen after the fire and she could kill him long before he could ever reach it. He’s in pain, he’s suffering, but Two’s smart enough not to risk getting too close. She twirls her knife again and Madge’s trembling fingers unzip her pocket and pull out two of the poison berries. She crushes them until her fingers are sticky with pulp and juice.

“Cato!” Two calls again and shakes her head when there’s no response. “He’s going to be so pissed he missed this. Oh well, I’ll be sure to give the audience a good show.” Her grin is feral and adrenaline makes Madge quicker than she’s ever been. She flies out of her hiding spot and before anyone knows what’s happening, she and Two collide.

“What the fuck?” Two shouts at the same time Gale yells “ _Madge!_ ” 

Two stumbles back and Madge falls with her, the two of them landing hard in the snow. Two’s knife waves wildly, the blade cutting into Madge’s side with pain like white hot fire, but desperation keeps her from screaming or rolling away. She jams her poison fingers into Two’s mouth and the other girl gags, her teeth biting down so hard Madge wouldn’t be surprised if her fingers were no longer attached to her hand. 

“Madge!” Gale shouts again, his voice shaking with terror. Madge stuffs her fingers in so far she’s sure she can feel the back of Two’s throat and Two gurgles, her eyes wide and horrified. She drops her bloody knife and suddenly all the pain adrenaline had been keeping at bay surges through Madge, agony like the ocean and she’s drowning. It’s hard to breathe or think or see or hear and the hand not dripping with saliva and poison leaps to her wound. It hurts, it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts.

“Madge!” Gale cries and he’s frantic.

“Ca...Ca...” Two whispers and Madge blinks away the white haze clouding her vision. She's so nauseous she’s sure to be sick and Two claws at her own throat.

“Cat...Ca…” she tries again and Cato, she is trying to say Cato. 

“Madge! Oh fuck, Madge, oh fuck,” Gale says and he is beside her somehow. It’s so hard to think about anything other than pain and horror and Two gasps and gasps for air she can’t find. She’s dying and _I did that, I killed her_.

“Come on, come on get up,” Gale half-orders, half-begs and then from beyond the trees “Clove! Where are you?”

Clove. Her name is Clove. Madge closes her eyes and it’s Cato’s voice, it must be, still far off but not far enough. Adrenaline starts to pump within her again and she knows Gale’s right. They have to move but it hurts, oh fuck fuck it hurts so much. Gale grabs her arm. Two, _Clove_ , stops moving and _boom._

_I killed someone_

_I killed her_

Madge wants to scream and even through the pain, she scrambles off of Clove and can’t stop shaking. “Clove!” Cato bellows again and this time there’s worry in his voice. Madge stares at Clove’s unmoving body and there’s vomit in her mouth, horror in her lungs and why are they still working together? Did they plan to finish one and two and guarantee District Two the victory? Were they unable to break their alliance the way she was unable to leave Gale? 

“Clove! Clove, answer me dammit!”

He’s so much closer now and Gale pulls on her arm. “Come on Madge, stand up!” he pleads, anger and fear shaking his voice, and she turns her eye on him. He’s a ghastly colour, his face is full of pain and his eyes are made of fear. Fear for her she realizes and she’ll focus on that. She can’t think of Clove’s dying gasp, of the agony ripping her apart, she has to think of Gale. Focus on Gale. She keeps her eye locked with his and stands, her legs quivering so badly she can barely stay upright. She can’t straighten, the pull of muscles in her side like setting herself on fire. Acid crawls up her throat but Gale doesn’t stand with her. He stays where he is and without a single thought, she grabs his arm and pulls.

“Madge,” he growls but she doesn’t listen, the nausea nearly knocking her over. She pulls and pulls, because she won’t leave without him. She can’t open her mouth to say so, she’s sure she’ll puke if she does, but he must see it on her face because he hauls himself up. His teeth are gritted, his eyes are suffocating in pain and his leg can barely hold any weight. He leans into her, so heavy she thinks she might collapse under him and his breathing is so, so ragged. They shuffle towards the trees, dragging each other onwards. They need to get away because if Cato finds them, they’re dead. Neither one of them could possibly fight anyone off right now and she’s lightheaded, blood still leaking through her fingers while Gale curses with every step.

She always knew she was going to die and maybe today’s the day she will.

No, no. Gale’s grip is bruising and he needs her and so do Mom and Dad, they need her to come home. Survive, she has to survive and that thought is cold but determined. Forget everything else, just survive. They vanish into the trees and that’s when she hears it.

“ _Clove!_ ” Cato screams and Madge flinches at his anguish. He’s found her then. 

“Clove, no! No, come on! Get up, get up Clove,” he begs and she has to ignore it. Don’t think of Clove clawing at her throat, don’t listen to the sorrow in Cato’s voice. Survive, survive, survive. 

The ground gives way beneath them.

* * *

They fall and Madge is too surprised to make a sound, fear tying tight around her neck and squeezing her throat closed. It’s a soft landing in a snowdrift but the jolt to her side is so horrifically painful she has to roll over and vomit. She isn’t the only one. Gale heaves beside her and she knows they have to keep going, but she feels so weak she doesn’t think she can move. She lies there in the snow and wishes the cold would make her numb.

“Madge,” Gale says and his voice is thin and agonized. Madge thinks of the terror she’d seen in his eyes, thinks of her father crying as they’d said goodbye, thinks of her mother trapped in bed and still carrying heartbreak from the last time she’d lost someone in the Games. _Get up, get up!_ _You are the mockingjay, Aunt Maysilee’s mockingjay. The Capitol can’t beat you. Get up for Dad, get up for Mom and Aunt Maysilee, get up for Gale. Get up!_

Madge clenches her jaw and stands even as the world spins. She reaches for Gale and grasps his arm, a roar of rage shaking the ground beneath her feet. Cato. He is out for revenge. Gale claws his way up with the help of a nearby tree and again they lean into each other, trying as hard as they can to keep each other standing. Cato will be able to follow their footprints and the bloodtrail they’ve left behind, they need to figure out some way to lose him. They did fall down that hill, but she has no idea how much, if at all, that will slow him. 

“The river,” Gale pants, “we can use the river.” Madge doesn’t dare open her mouth, but she follows his eyes and nods. The water will disguise any trail of theirs and they drag themselves over, wooziness threatening to overtake her. They clamber into the water and it’s so cold every other thought and feeling is driven from her mind. She bites on her tongue to keep from screaming and tastes her own blood. She gags and “fuck, fuck, holy fuck,” Gale hisses through his teeth. Any risk of passing out is thoroughly obliterated and they need to keep moving. Every step is torture, a thousand million knives slicing into her feet and calves. The water’s lower on Gale, but she can still hear the torment in his every breath. They move upstream in the hopes Cato will guess downstream and she is pain, nothing but pain, and _keep moving. Keep moving keep moving keep-_

_boom_

They flinch together but there's no time to stop. Someone else is dead and hopefully it’s Cato. That’s probably a horrible thought to have but she can’t care about that right now. All she cares about is _keep going keep going keep going keep going._ How long has it been? She doesn’t know, she can’t think and then Gale’s hand tightens on hers convulsively. 

“O-ove-ver th-there,” he says and his teeth chatter so badly he can barely speak. The world swims before her eye but she trusts him and they clamber from the river. _Almost there,_ she promises herself and then there’s stone beneath her feet and all around her. Gale collapses beside her with a wretched curse and she sinks to the floor, her body hunching over itself. The pain is unbelievable, in her side, her head, her feet and she presses her forehead to the ground. Tears spill down her face and she can’t breathe. She can’t...she can’t...she...

“...dge! Madge! Hey, wake up! Madge, stay with me, come on!”

Madge opens her eyes and everything spins. She rolls over and retches, Gale’s hand on her back. Had she blacked out? Her throat burns and Gale helps her sit. He brings the water bottle to her lips and he’s shaking so badly water sloshes over the rim of it onto her chin. She drinks and the pain comes back to her with such vehemence she almost passes out again. Gale grips her shoulder tight enough to keep her steady and he looks awful. He’s still a sickly colour, his lips are turning blue and his every feature is pinched with pain.

If they don’t do something soon, they’re going to die here.

“I...I n-need to fi-fix your l-leg,” she forces out through chattering teeth and he shakes his head.

“F-fuck my leg,” he says and she blinks in surprise. “Y-your side. Let me...let me d-do your s-side.”

He shrugs out of his jacket and she frowns. “What…” She never finishes the question as he pulls the knife out his pack and begins cutting his jacket into strips. Bandages, he’s making bandages. The pieces are uneven and jagged, his hands vibrating with cold and pain. Her own hands shudder terribly and when she looks at them she’s almost sick again. One is orange with dried poison and the other slick with blood, her blood. She swallows the bile in her mouth and crawls to the mouth of the cave. 

“Madge?” Gale calls and she plunges her hands into the snow. It’s freezing but she needs to clean them, she needs them clean. Her right hand aches and the fingers Clove had bitten are already bruising, her teeth having left cuts as well. Madge tucks her frozen fingers into her armpits and shuffles back to Gale, his eyes stuck to her side. She can’t look. 

“I’m g-going to w-wash it,” he says and she nods. She closes her eyes and he mops at her wound with a wet jacket rag, her teeth clenched to keep from screaming. She presses her hands to her mouth and she needs to think clearly.

“H-herbs,” she hisses through her fingers. “In...in m-my b-bra. R-r-right si-side.” Gale takes them out, his fingers quivering so badly his nails scrape her skin. He binds her up, a wad of his jacket pressed to her wound and tied up with torn strips. She tries to remember how to breathe. 

“Head,” he says and she shakes hers.

“N-no. Leg,” she insists and pushes him away. The whole cave is hazy around the edges, fear lights his eyes and she grabs a bundle of jacket. Her other hand, the bruised, bleeding hand, takes hold of Clove’s knife and for a moment all she can see is Clove suffocating before her. Madge bites her lip so hard it hurts. _Gale, think of Gale._ They lock eyes and she pulls. Gale falls back with an awful sound, one of his fists beating against the ground. She cries as she pushes the makeshift bandage onto his wound, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding. She sprinkles the rest of her herbs on it and then ties it up as quickly as her trembling fingers allow. 

“S-sorry, so-sorry,” she says and his face is screwed up tight with agony. Tears leak out the corners of his eyes, his arm's still an awful mess and she pulls out the leaves she’d gathered just before Clove attacked. Her fingers quiver and he eyes her warily, his whole body tensing as she rubs the paste on the last of his wound. He inhales sharply and clenches his teeth together, his skin somehow paling further. She winces with him and uses the rest of the jacket scraps to bandage him up. Madge sizzles with pain all over, but though her foot hurts an unreal amount, she can’t feel her toes. She knows what that means. They need to warm up or they’re going to freeze to death. The light is poor, especially with only one eye but there, off to the left, is the bundle they need. She crawls over, nausea still tossing and turning within her. She drags the bundle back to Gale and feels her heart stop. Just like she must have before, he’s blacked out from the pain. 

“G-Gale! G-Gale!” she shouts and shakes him. His head lolls and she slaps him. He jerks awake, his eyes popping open and clouded with pain. “St-stay with me,” she pleads and he nods slowly, his breathing laboured. He closes his eyes and Madge is so cold it's a wonder she can think straight. 

She has to though, if she doesn’t they’re dead. Clove howls in the back of her mind, but she buries that under _survive survive survive_. Her hands tremble as she takes the blanket out of his pack and he starts a fire with matches he must have received as a gift after she’d left him. They need to stay warm and she throws the blanket over him before she takes off his boots and then peels off both his wet socks. She lays them by the fire to dry and she can’t take off her own; bending feels like tearing herself in half. Gale helps her pull off her boots and both her socks and the toes on her left foot are an awful colour. Her stomach riots. 

They huddle by the fire and they need to keep their blood flowing. They sit in a tangle of limbs and rub each other’s legs and feet, the pain and the cold still desperately trying to pull her under. If she passes out now, she might never wake up and that fear helps more than anything to keep her awake. His eyes widen.

“Madge,” he breathes. “Madge, parachutes.” She turns around and two parachutes have dropped presents for them just outside their cave. She crawls over and _please be something for the pain, oh please be something for the pain_. It’s a struggle to open the packages with her hands shaking so badly, but she manages and pulls out a bodysuit, one thicker and warmer than the ones they already have. The inside is lined with soft fluff, there are feet attached and this one is just Gale’s size. She opens the other and it’s the same thing, but sized for her. She crawls back to Gale and the effort of all that movement leaves her winded. She has to pause a moment to catch her breath, the knife wound in her side pulsing with agony. Darkness creeps in at the corners of her fuzzy vision and Gale holds her hand so tight it hurts. She focuses on that and lets it drag her back. 

“We need to change,” she gasps and he nods. Neither one of them can take off their jumpsuits alone and she helps him pull his over his injured leg and arm while he helps her tug hers off with the minimum amount of movement possible. They use the top halves to dry off their still wet legs and then struggle into their new suits as fast as they can. She is instantly warmer and though she still can’t feel the toes on her left foot, the fear of freezing lessens within her. Gale lifts the blanket and she presses up next to him, the two of them almost in the fire in their urge to heat up.

They shiver in silence but it doesn’t last. The sky grows dim, they start to warm and Gale’s teeth stop chattering. He breaks their quiet.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he demands and Madge feels fear and sorrow and guilt turn to anger licking at her skin at the harshness of his voice.

“I was thinking you were going to die if I didn’t do something!” she snaps and she doesn’t want to argue about this, she doesn’t want to argue at all, but when she looks at him, he’s livid. She’s never seen him so angry; his lips drawn back, his eyes dark with fury and his nostrils flaring. 

“Then you should have left me!” he shouts. His chest heaves and so does hers, their anger rising together. She wants to cry, but yelling is easier. Anger hurts less than misery.

“I could never do that, I would never do that!” she shouts back and he’s like a dragon from a storybook, sparks dancing in his every ragged breath.

“Then you’re an idiot!” he growls. “And you’ve fucked me! You saved my life! You risked everything to save me, how can I ever go home now? I owe you my life,” he says and there’s fury and misery laced into every letter. She breathes in and can’t seem to breathe out. 

“We were even. That's what I had to keep telling myself because I was going insane thinking about you dying, about going home without you. We were even, I didn't owe you anything and my family needs me. But then you had to save my life and get sliced open doing it! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he demands and she can’t answer. She’d never imagined him having this reaction but maybe she should have. Gale is a lot of things, stubborn, prideful and noble among them. 

“I don’t want you to owe me,” she tells him and lets anger keep her tears at bay. He makes a furious sound in the back of his throat.

“You think I don’t know that? That makes it worse. If you’d done it just so I’d owe you and feel obligated to protect you, it’d be easy to ignore. But you didn’t. You did it because you’re a good person. Because you’re kind and compassionate and now I have to make sure you win. It was already too hard, but now it's impossible. I can’t let you go off on your own or get hurt or die, I can’t,” he says and presses his fists into his forehead. Madge stares at him and she’d known her choice would ruin them, and now it has. 

“This is such a fucking mess!” he yells and she winces. He looks back up at her and his eyes burn so bright she feels almost as if her skin has caught fire. “I want to go home, I want to see my family again but now I can’t! Why couldn’t you leave me? Why did you have to save me?”

“What do you want from me?” she demands and tragedy is the very air she breathes. “You want me to say I’m sorry? Well I’m not!”

She surprises them both by saying it and his eyes widen even as his teeth stay clenched. The tears she’d been ignoring sting her eyes and everything is wrong, everything is terrible and she wants to go home, she wants to be safe and not here suffering for someone else’s entertainment.

“I’m not sorry you’re alive! I can’t be and if you want to be, too bad!” she shouts and she can’t stop. “I know I’ve screwed myself, but I couldn’t let you die! You really think I could ever live with myself if I just walked away and let you die? I don’t want to lose, I want to go home, I do, I really do. Maybe I’m an idiot but I’ll never be the person who could just let you die.”

She is a mess of tears and rage, at herself and Gale and the whole world and she’s never been much for words, but they come pouring out of her now without end. “If you hate me, if you want to leave, then go! I won’t stop you. I don’t want you to die for me, I don’t want you to save me or protect me, I never wanted to see you again! I know what I did, I know that’s not how you win the Hunger Games, but I could never do anything else,” and it feels a little like relief but also despair to admit it, to know that this is who she is and there’s no way she could ever be the cold hearted victor she needs to be. 

“If you don’t like it, you can leave but I won’t apologize. I did the only thing I could, the only thing I could ever live with and I won’t be sorry. I’m so scared I can barely breathe,” she admits and the tears come harder now as she thinks of the home she’ll probably never see again. “I want to go home so, so desperately, but there’s only so much of myself I can give away to make that happen.”

She’s not even sure she’s making sense anymore but she’s been primed to go off since the reaping and maybe being the mockingjay isn’t just about surviving what the Capitol throws at her, maybe it’s also about remembering who she really is as they try to break her into something different.

“Maybe you’re stronger than I am, maybe you could pay any price to go home, but I can’t. If you think I’m pathetic and weak, fine. You don’t owe me. I know I’m an idiot, but I could never do anything else. I-”

Gale kisses her.

He grips her shoulders tight, her eye widens in surprise and this kiss isn't sweet or even full of heat, this kiss is hard and desperate and overwhelming. Is this for the cameras? Just to shut her up? Because he wants to? She doesn't know, she can barely think and she's gasping when he pulls away. His breathing is harsh and he bows his head.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he asks but it isn’t angry and loud like before. Now it’s soft and devastated. The tears drip off her chin.

“I don’t know,” she whispers and what are either of them going to do? He won’t let her die, she won’t let him die and what does that leave them with? 

“I...I’m sorry,” he chokes out and his voice is thick with all her sorrow. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. I'm sorry for being so angry. I know you didn’t do any of this to make a mess of things and I’d have done the same thing. I could never leave you either. This is just so fucked up. I’m sorry.” Her heart trips and stumbles between her ribs.

“I never meant for this, I don’t want you to feel like you owe me. I know I’m an idiot and I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re in an impossible situation,” she says and he pulls her against him. She listens to his heartbeat and even though it shouldn’t be, it might be the most reassuring sound in the world. 

“Don’t,” he says fiercely. “Don’t be sorry. You saved my life, you risked your own because you’re a good person and you shouldn’t be sorry about that. None of this is your fault, it’s-”

He cuts himself off just in time and she presses her face into his shoulder. What a disaster, what a mess. The Capitol has condemned them and if she does somehow win, she knows she won’t ever go home. Not really.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “for lashing out at you. And I’m sorry about what I said before the reaping. I’m sorry for every dirty look and stupid thing I’ve thought. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Madge.” 

She lifts her head to look at him and it was better when he was angry and yelling at her. Now he’s breaking her into pieces, sharp, weeping pieces. After everything they’ve been through and everything he’s done for her, it seems ridiculous to apologize. He has more than made up for any snide remark or rude thought. And maybe that’s why her heart feels suddenly too big for her chest. He doesn’t need to apologize, she never would’ve expected or even wanted him to, but he has. There is something dangerous growing within her.

“I...I...I’m sorry too,” she manages through her tears and this time he’s the one that lifts his head to look at her in confusion. His eyes are wet too and she is splintering.

“What? What are you sorry for?” he asks and she bites her lip. For being jealous and resentful that Katniss preferred him? For thinking he was nothing but an angry ass? For not getting to know him sooner? For coming up with this plan that will do nothing but hurt them both? For every uncharitable thought she’s had about him? For saving his life and dooming him all in one? For all of it.

“Everything,” she mumbles and she is. She is sorry for everything and he presses his face into her neck, her arms clutching him tight. She thought she’d known heartbreak before, but she’d been wrong. 

This is heartbreak and she wonders if either one of them will ever recover.

She’s pretty sure she knows the answer.

* * *

They don’t say anything else, there’s nothing more to say. They sit in silence, still pressed together for warmth but a chasm looming between them. She’d saved him, she’d broken the rules and now they both have to pay for it.

They burn together and wish wish wish they were apart.

(but even still, neither of them leaves)

* * *

Madge closes her eyes during the anthem and hides her face in Gale’s shoulder. 

“The boy from Ten,” he murmurs to her and she nods. Had one of the other remaining tributes found him? Or had he been unfortunate enough to stumble upon Cato in his fury? Well, either way, he’s dead now.

Five left.

* * *

They lie down to sleep, cocooned in their blanket and each other’s arms. They don’t bother with shifts tonight, they know neither one of them will be able to stay awake. His fingers run over her back and she strokes his hair and they might not wake up tomorrow. It’s a terrifying thought, fear lives in her organs, pain throbs throughout her body and everything is wrong, so very, very wrong.

Just before she drifts to sleep, she thinks she hears him whisper “thank you.”

* * *

Sleep doesn’t last long.

She wakes in a panic and sits bolt upright. She grabs at her throat and she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating. She’s dying just like Clove had and she deserves to, doesn’t she? She does, but still she tries to breathe, tries to suck air into her lungs and Gale’s arms come around her.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs to her ear and she shakes her head, her lungs too small to keep her alive. He tightens his hold on her. “You’re okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he says again, firm and soothing and she leans into him. He is warm and solid around her and after an eternity her heart starts to calm, her lungs stretching out and accepting oxygen. Gale rubs her back and it takes her a long time sitting in the dark before she can speak.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and he pulls her somehow closer, the scent of him leaking into her blood. He presses his face into her hair and her arms find their way around him.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” he breathes to her skin and she inhales. “I think you’re strong. Staying you in a place like this, I think that’s the strongest thing you can do. When I saw you with Eleven, I don’t think I’ve ever...I don’t think you’re weak or pathetic.”

His words are dangerous and she forces herself to say “But I am an idiot?”

“I think we’re both idiots.”

He’s right.

* * *

It takes her forever to fall back asleep.

There’s so much seething in her lungs, her blood, her organs and she can’t quiet any of it. There’s Clove trying so desperately to breathe, there’s Cato’s howling grief, there’s her parents, there’s Katniss and how she’d prefer Gale come home, there’s a district that won’t cry if she dies and there’s Gale, of course there’s Gale.

She closes her eyes and sees so many terrible things, tries to calm her breathing and hears Clove gasping gasping for air. Exhaustion makes her hazy, but it isn’t enough to pull her under. She lingers on and on and on with Gale’s fingers in her hair and how long has it been? Minutes? Hours?

He must think she’s asleep for he whispers softly, so very softly “I wish you weren’t you.”

* * *

When she wakes up again, she doesn’t feel rested. She aches in so many places and she’s tired all the way down to her bones. Gale is watching her when she rolls over and she wonders if he’d been watching her all night. Had he gotten any sleep? The exhaustion haunting his face says no.

He smiles faintly when he notices she’s awake and she touches his cheek with her swollen fingers. 

“You need to sleep,” she whispers and his face tightens. She sits up and he takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s afraid of what’s waiting for him when he closes his eyes. She can understand that. He lies down and she grabs his hand. His fingers tangle through hers and _don’t let go._

_stay with me_

* * *

Gale’s sleep is fitful.

Madge squeezes his hand, strokes his hair and hopes it helps.

Though maybe it’s worse if it does.

* * *

His dusty watch says it’s 2:17 pm back home when he wakes up and neither one of them suggests they find somewhere else to stay. They both know they’d never make it. Tomorrow they’ll have to move on, but they need today to rest and maybe regain a little, tiny bit of strength. Hopefully the gamemakers will let them have this. They’ve earned it, haven’t they? Yesterday’s excitement should buy them time, their injuries, the drama, killing Clove, that should have slaked the Capitol’s appetite for a day, right? 

Madge drags herself out to pee and angry tears gather in her eyes. She hates them, she hates them so much and she wants...she doesn’t even know for sure what she wants, but she yearns for something with ugly fire in her gut. The cold air chills her lungs and the pain in her side is intense, so intense bile slithers up her throat and pools in her mouth. Madge swallows it all back down, it scalds as it goes, and she crawls back to Gale’s side. His eyes dig into her and she feels shivery and wrung out. No one speaks as they split his last pack of jerky and she can’t bear their silence. Quiet lets her think and there are so many things she can’t think about.

“Tell me a secret,” she murmurs as they sit together under his blanket and she still can’t feel some of the toes on her left foot. She probably never will again.

“Okay,” he says and she listens to the uneven beat of his heart. Fear curls around her stomach, lungs and veins, but she ignores it. He’s alive, she’s alive, they’re both alive. That’s the only thought she’ll allow herself to have.

“The day we met, I thought you were a ghost,” he says and her eye widens in surprise. She tilts her chin up to look at him and the memory of a smile touches his lips. “This is embarrassing. I’ve been keeping this secret for years; I thought I always would.”

They’re saving the last of the firewood for tonight and he pulls her in closer to fight the cold, his eyes distant and far away.

“I think...I think it was November and I must’ve been...ten maybe and very gullible apparently. The night before, my dad had told me the story of The Lost Hunter, have you heard it?” he asks and she shakes her head. Again, a phantom grin kisses his mouth.

“Must be a Seam thing. Apparently, long, long ago, a miner snuck into the woods on his own to hunt and never came back. No one knew what happened to him, did he meet some monster out there? Did he stumble upon the mayor having an affair and end up murdered? Did he get lost and never found his way home? Nobody knew, but what they did know apparently, was that sometimes you’d hear him moaning through the trees, calling for help. And if you answered his calls? Well, you’d never be seen again either and then, one day, someone would hear your voice moaning on the wind.”

Madge bites her lip and Gale’s smile starts to rise from the dead.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was terrified. I pretended not to be, I told my dad it was a dumb story and ghosts didn’t scare me, but they did. I didn’t sleep all night, one hundred percent convinced The Lost Hunter was going to crawl in through my window and drag me out. He never did and I practically ran all the way to school so I could tell everyone about it. Turns out all my friends had already heard that story. We spent every free moment that day whispering other ghost stories to each other, each one more gruesome and terrifying than the last. One of the worst was of a small girl from town that got lost, starved to death and now came back as a ghost with a ravenous hunger. She’d look sweet, innocent and then she’d devour you, always always hungry because that was the last thing she’d felt before she died.”

Madge feels a smile start to pull at her own mouth and there is the smallest, softest hint of laughter to his voice.

“It was dumb, I was dumb, but I believed them all. I didn’t admit it of course, I never would, but I walked home that day in absolute terror. It was a nasty day, cold and grey and it seemed like the perfect time for a ghost to snatch me up. The wind was crazy and I nearly had a heart attack when someone’s hat hit me in the face. It was small and white, too white. Nothing in Twelve was ever that clean. The coal dust turned everything gray, clothes, snow, houses. I started to panic and then I saw you. You were so pale, your hair, your clothes, your face and you looked so small I thought the wind would pick you up and carry you away. You didn’t look real. All I could think about was Thom’s story of the hungry ghost girl from Town and I was convinced it was you. You were the ghost girl, small, innocent and calling out for me “My hat! You caught my hat!” I was positive you were going to eat me. You reached me, I threw the hat in your face and I ran all the way home. I’d never been so terrified in my life.”

A surprising peal of laughter bubbles out of her and Gale smiles properly, beautifully.

“I was screaming when I got home, wailing about the ghost girl that almost ate me and my mom must’ve thought I’d lost my mind. Rory was four and I told him all about it, how you were out there, hungry for blood and maybe still coming after me and he cried all night. My mom blamed my dad for putting ideas in my head and he tried to explain that ghosts weren’t real, but I didn’t believe him. I knew they were real, I’d seen you and you were definitely a ghost. I went to school the next day determined to relay my brush with death to everyone, but then I saw you. You were at school in the same uniform as everyone else, talking to Mr Naysmith and when someone noticed me staring, they told me you were the mayor’s daughter. Not a ghost. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed. You probably don’t even remember that,” he says and she shakes her head.

“I do. I didn’t know it was you, but I do remember that. I went home in tears.”

“What? Why?”

Madge leans into him and he rests his head against hers. “That hat was from my nana and it was brand new. It was the first time I’d ever worn it, that’s why it was so clean. It was gray a week later. The wind blew it right off my head and I went running after it in a panic, Mrs Sparrowsaw yelling after me to come back right this instant! I was so relieved when I saw you had it. But then I got to you and you threw it in my face and sprinted away. I thought you must hate me and I couldn’t understand why. We’d never even spoken! Mrs Sparrowsaw found me crying and told me some boys were just mean and there was no point in crying over them. I had no idea that was you.”

“It was. And I didn’t hate you, I was just terrified shitless and convinced you were going to eat me.”

It hurts to laugh as hard as she is, but this time she doesn’t care. This is a ray of sun she is glad to have. Gale’s eyes are bright with mirth and he grins.

“So what about you? You believe in ghosts?” 

“I don’t know, maybe. But I do believe in magic,” she says and his eyebrow goes up.

“Really?” he asks and she nods. 

“It’s silly. I know it’s silly but I do. My mom, she’s always been...sick and...sad. But it’s gotten worse, it’s always getting worse. When I was younger, she taught me to play the piano. She was always so much happier when we played together. She smiled, she laughed and she didn’t seem sick anymore. When I was little, I believed, I really did, that the music was magic. That it could...cure her, make her better. I played as much as I could and eventually, I had to realize that's not how it works. Except, sometimes, when I play and she actually comes downstairs and smiles like she used to, well, I think maybe it really is magic.”

There are silly tears in her eyes and he squeezes her fingers. She closes her eyes and she can see both her parents smiling, her heart squeezing tight in her chest. Will she ever see them again? 

“I’m sorry,” Gale whispers suddenly and she blinks in surprise. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Madge twists around to stare at him but before she can think of anything to say, a silver parachute drifts down to the entrance of their cave. She crawls over with her side shrieking and it’s warm bread and fresh jam but what she wants more than anything is something for the pain. Food is good, she knows that, but what she really, really wants is something to dull the pain.

“Painkillers, the Capitol has to have painkillers,” Gale grumbles and she nods. He licks jam off his thumb and her heart does something truly awful in her chest. They shouldn’t have talked today, she shouldn’t have asked to hear a secret. Everything they say, everything they share and learn, it only makes things worse.

They really are idiots, aren’t they?

* * *

No one dies today and it’s sickening that that’s a bad thing.

The Capitol really has made them into monsters.

* * *

It's a struggle to sleep, because behind her eyelids there’s nothing but nightmares.

She’s sure it’s the same for him.

(it is)

* * *

In the morning it’s time to move on.

If they linger, there’s always the chance Cato will find them. And if he doesn’t, the gamemakers won’t let them hide out another day. They want action and drama, especially now that there’s only five tributes left. If danger doesn’t find them on its own, the gamemakers will help it along. They need to move and hopefully by doing so avoid any trouble. They’re in no shape to fight for their lives.

Her left eye is still too blurry to see with, the fingers on her right hand have swollen with bruises to the point where she can’t move them, she might as well not have toes on her left foot for all she can feel them and her side is murder. Every move sets her on fire and how can it still hurt so much? It’s hard to focus, she tires so easily and she’s nauseous, she can’t even remember what it was like not to be nauseous. Gale isn’t much better. His left leg is useless and can’t bear any weight and he can barely use his right arm, the burns excruciating, and even the slightest touch causes him so much pain he nearly passes out. The bandage over his cheek is stained too red and every time he talks, he winces. The tape curls at its edges and every expression stops the wound from closing. 

If another tribute does find them, well she’s pretty she knows how it’ll end.

“I’ll see...i’ll see if I can find you a crutch,” she says and even talking seems to take too much effort today. Gale frowns as he packs up their blanket and she knows he wants to argue, but also knows he won’t. She can’t carry him and he can’t walk as he is, she needs to find him some sort of crutch.

“Don’t go too far,” he says and the injured side of his face twitches. She nods and shuffles outside. She holds her side and it’ll take a miracle to send either of them home. The odds aren’t in their favour, but then, they never were. They were never in anyone’s favour. 

It takes her longer than she’d like, but she has to keep stopping to catch her breath and because the pain is so severe she’s on the verge of curling up and sobbing. Eventually though, she finds a thick, longish branch sticking out of the river and drags it back to him. He lets out a shaky breath when he sees her, his nervous eyes stuck to the mouth of their cave. After another rest, she helps him heave himself up and lean onto his crutch. Madge holds her side and feels almost as if she’s holding herself together. Her other arm loops around Gale’s and they walk together. It’s slow and difficult, and she doesn’t want to imagine what they’ll do if there’s a crisis. For now, she just wants to think about moving through the pain. They have to keep stopping of course, mostly for her, but she can tell Gale appreciates the breaks as well.

The sun is bright through the trees and thankfully the snow isn’t too deep. She keeps her eyes open for a new place to spend the night and tries not to think of the hunger gnawing at her belly. Once they’ve found somewhere to rest, she’ll try to find some food. Gale won’t be able to hunt with his leg, so it’ll be up to her. Hopefully it’ll be an easy search; she’s not sure she can handle anything else.

They pause again and Madge sits on a large boulder while Gale leans against a tree. She tries to catch her breath and digs her fingers into the skin of her side. Exhaustion hangs under Gale’s eyes, strain lingers in the hollows of his cheeks and there is pain in the press of his lips. It’s strange, when she’s in so much distress herself, but there’s an urge in her to ease his suffering. She wishes she knew a way, any way, to make him better.

“You okay?” he asks with soft and genuine concern and her insides quiver. Maybe he feels the same way she does. 

“Yeah,” she says, not because she is okay but because she doesn’t think she’ll ever be okay again. Gale pushes off his tree and holds out a hand. Madge takes it, weaves her fingers through his and they pull her up together. For a moment they stand facing each other and the whole world starts to fade as she looks in his eyes. She was right when they'd stood on the balcony in the Capitol, the stars are in his eyes. He smiles, small, somewhat sad but also warm and suddenly, she yearns for...for what? Her fingers tremble as they touch his cheek and she wants...she doesn't know what she wants except that he's tangled up in it, tangled up in her. It’s been eleven days in Hell together, a few more in the Capitol, a little over two weeks getting to know each other, laughing together, crying together, saving each other. They’ve sewn themselves together and she has no idea how to cut all the threads. She doesn't want to.

And that’s when the rumbling starts.

* * *

The ground shakes and they freeze, both their heads turning slowly to look behind them. Madge feels her heart leap up into her mouth.

Avalanche.

The mountains roar and snow comes hurtling towards them. For a moment, they are immobilized by terror. And then everything restarts, faster, louder and deadly.

“Go!” Gale yells and she tries to ignore the pain flaring in her side with every step and the way her numb toes make her stumble. If they can’t get away, the avalanche will swallow them whole. They hobble as fast as they can, but they’ll never outrun it. Not with Gale’s leg or her lungs caving in on themselves. There has to be something, there has to be, has to be, has to b-

“Over there!” she shouts and pivots to the right. She trips over rocks, fallen branches and uneven ground, her useless eye hiding so many obstacles and pitfalls from view. She can’t stop though, if she does, she’s dead. She reaches the cliffside? Hillside? It doesn’t matter but if they climb up to the clearing above, they’ll be safe. It’s their only hope.

“Go! Go!” Gale bellows as he falls into her from behind and she grits her teeth. She has to be fast but careful and she starts to scramble up. It’s hard with numb toes, no gloves and a hand with fingers that can’t bend or grip, but she can’t let that slow her. The roar of coming death grows louder and she grabs hold of a sharp, snowy stone with her one functioning hand and hauls herself up, up, up. If only she had more arm strength and she can hear Gale grunting below her, still alive, still fighting, not dead just yet. Her foot slips and nearly sends her crashing down and she presses her face against the rocks, their jagged edges cutting into her skin.

“Keep going, keep going,” Gale pants and this time when she reaches up, she meets the ledge at the top. Relief burns inside her and she clambers to salvation with her heart alive in her throat. She doesn’t collapse in terrified exhaustion or vomit in nauseous agony the way she wants to, instead she reaches down for Gale. The avalanche has almost reached them and she grasps the back of his jumpsuit and pulls pulls pulls with all her might. He drags himself over the edge and she falls backwards, the snow rushing by like a river below them, broken trees carried along in its wake.

The world spins so much she has to close her eye and “Fuck!” Gale snaps with tears in his voice. “Fuck!”

She can taste his suffering and her side is so horrifically painful she struggles to think. Maybe it would’ve been better to let the avalanche take her. It’s hard to breathe, she’s sure she can smell her own blood and if she moves, she’s sure she’ll be sick. They’ve survived, somehow, but she can’t imagine they’ll ever move again. This is where it ends.

She’s right.

* * *

A shriek erupts from the trees and it takes all the strength she didn’t realise she still had to roll over. Madge looks straight ahead and the only other female tribute, the redheaded girl from Five, comes spilling into the clearing. Madge stares and the rumbling and cracking of trees isn’t just coming from below them, it’s coming from nearly everywhere around them. This clearing is an oasis from the death on all sides and they’re being herded here. The gamemakers want this to end. 

The boy from Eleven comes running into the clearing with snow at his heels and panic in his eyes. Madge’s breath comes quick and shallow. Only one left. 

And here he is.

Madge forces herself to her knees as Cato barrels through the trees, his eyes wild and faded blood smeared on his cheeks. His chest heaves and they’re all here. 

Today’s the day the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games come to an end.

* * *

For a moment, none of them move. There’s no escape, not with the avalanche still raging, and their eyes bounce from face to face. Four of them are going to die today. And one goes home a victor. This is it.

Cato, the last career standing, is the first to move. Of course he is. He roars and charges forward, charges right at _her_. Madge has a moment of bright, white panic because she's no match for him, especially not now, not bleeding and broken and falling to pieces, but then Gale shoves her aside. It catches her off guard and she slams into the ground, burning tendrils stretching out from her side to infect every inch of her. She barely notices. Gale, all she can think, feel, see, hear, is Gale, stupid stupid Gale who’s trying to save her. Adrenaline pushes away her pain until it’s so distant it might be someone else’s and Madge scrambles back up to her knees, coppery, tangy blood on her tongue. She watches with horrified eyes as Cato and Gale collide, panic the only thing her lungs seem able to pull in. 

They tumble down together, Gale cursing and Cato growling. These are the Hunger Games, she and Gale are even now, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care and Cato has the advantage in muscle, in training and he slams Gale down, his hands around his neck. She should let them fight it out and be ready to finish off the winner, but she can’t. She won’t. The girl from Five screams behind her, Cato’s face is manic, Gale’s eyes are wide and terrified and Madge is standing without remembering getting up. Cato tightens his grip, Gale gasps desperately and he’s dying. He’s dying and nothing else matters but that. Nothing, nothing, nothing _nothing_ , nothing but Gale and she can’t let him die. She can’t. 

Madge surges forward and kicks Cato as hard as she can. There’s an inferno in her side but she doesn’t care. Her toes dig into his ribs, Cato grunts and his grip loosens enough that Gale can breathe again. He swallows air in great gulps and tugs at Cato’s hands with all the strength he has left. It won’t be enough.

“Cato!” she shouts in panic-fuelled desperation, “That’s your name isn’t it? That’s what Clove kept trying to say, Cato! Cato! She wanted you to come help her, but you didn’t! I killed her and you couldn’t do a fucking thing about it!” Fear is every beat of her heart and Cato’s face is livid, beyond livid, and he forgets all about Gale. Good. He lunges at her and she dives out of the way, only for his fingers to close around her ankle. Madge tries to escape, tries to scramble up but can’t, Cato dragging her towards him. Horror starts to pool within her and she tries to dig her nails into the ground, but the snow’s too deep. She kicks out as hard as she can with her other foot and feels it make contact, but Cato doesn’t care. He is fury, vengeance and he is going to kill her. 

He flips her over and climbs on top of her, his weight pushing her hips into the ground. She claws at his hands, his face but he doesn’t feel it. Blood spews from his nose, hot and salty as it dribbles onto her face, and his hands come around her throat even as she struggles and fights and squirms. He squeezes, squeezes, squeezessqueezes, he is killing her but she can’t move. She is Clove gasping for air, Clove clawing at her throat, Clove dying because Madge killed her.

_boom_

_I’m dead_ , she thinks, _he’s killed me_. 

He hasn’t. 

Something big and heavy collides with Cato’s head and he’s thrown off her by the force of the impact. She can breathe. Her throat aches, it’s so hard to suck in air but she isn’t dead. Adrenaline is fire in her blood and she rolls over to look in the direction the projectile had come from. The girl from Five lies unmoving in the snow and the boy from Eleven hefts a large stone in his hand. Oh.

He throws it and Madge hurls herself out of the way just in time. It lands with an audible thump and she flinches. With nothing else to throw, Eleven sprints towards her. She’s coughing as she tries to breathe and she can’t crawl away fast enough. He grabs her by the hair and drags her back to him. Her scalp screams and his hand wraps around her neck, but she only has a moment of panic because suddenly, he lets go.

_boom_

Madge whips around in time to see Eleven crumple, Clove’s knife in his back. Her eyes meet Gale’s as he stands behind where Eleven had been and the adrenaline drowned out his pain too. Or maybe it was the fear. They stare at each other, she can’t look away and Cato moans. Madge forces her eyes to him lying in scarlet snow and there’s a dent in his head. He stirs feebly and there’s no saving him now. It’ll be a slow death, but it will be death. Madge unzips her pocket and grabs a lumpy berry, her fingers crushing it to pulp. She crawls to Cato’s side and he moans again, pitiful, sad and pained, her organs trembling. She closes her eyes and sticks her fingers down his throat. He gasps, gasps, gasps gasps, gasps and _boom._

He had tried to kill Gale, tried to kill her but she doesn’t feel relieved, vindicated or victorious. She feels broken. Gale’s shaking hand finds her shoulder and now it gets worse. 

She knew it would cost her to save him and now it’s time to pay up.

* * *

The tears are already falling and this is what the Capitol’s always wanted. Tragedy, heartbreak, horror, they’re ready to feast on it. Madge presses her fingers into her eyelids and she’d wanted the Capitol to carry them all the way home and now they have. Today, one of them wins the Hunger Games. Gale’s hand grips her shoulder too tight and the Capitol’s always wanted them to suffer, to watch each other die, but now they’ve gotten something even better. Now they’ll have to kill each other and the audience must be ecstatic. Her plan had been too clever. It’s worked too well.

Madge stands and she’s surprised she can. She faces Gale but keeps her eye closed. She can’t look at him, she can’t.

“Madge,” he whispers and she wishes he’d never started using her name.

“We’re even,” she gasps out of her bruised throat. “We’re even now. We saved each other from Cato and you saved me from Eleven. We’re even now.”

It hurts to say but they’re all squared now, no one owes anyone anything. 

“Madge,” he tries again and her name is a knife in her heart.

“Don’t,” she begs because whatever he says will only make this worse. Her heart’s in a hundred different pieces and she doesn’t want to die. She wants to grow up, she wants to go home, she wants to see her parents again. But she can’t kill Gale to do it. She killed Clove, she killed Cato, but she can’t kill Gale. He’s the only thing standing in her way, she is so close to home, but it doesn’t matter. She can’t do it.

Of course, if he doesn’t die, that only leaves one other option.

She knew she was going to die as soon as Effie Trinket said her name on reaping day but now that it’s here, now that death is holding out a hand, she wants to weep and scream and beg on her knees. It’s so hard to breathe and she doesn’t want to die. Not now, not yet, not like this. She’s afraid, she’s so afraid and all she wants is to curl up in bed with her mom singing a lullaby and her dad promising nothing will ever hurt her. 

Of course, that’s a promise he could never keep. 

How had Aunt Maysilee felt when death had come for her? Had she been strong? Had she wanted to collapse in sobs the way Madge does? _Aunt Maysilee will keep you safe, she’ll look after you_ but her pin is lost somewhere in the woods and Madge has never felt so alone. This is it, this is the end and she covers her face with her hands. She needs to be brave, strong but courage feels impossible. _Twelve is guaranteed the extra food_ , she tells herself, _Gale’s family won’t lose him, Katniss won’t lose him. And it’ll be relatively quick._ It’s not comfort but it’s all she has. It’s all she has and that drives through her like a sword, cutting her at the knees and nearly sending her down into the snow. She is sixteen and she’s going to die. This is the very last day of her life.

Madge shakes as she takes the last four berries from her pocket. He’d promised he wouldn’t be the one that killed her and she wishes he hadn’t. She wishes he’d do this so she won’t have to.

_I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry Dad, I’m so sorry, I love you._

If one of them doesn’t end it soon, the Capitol will and they might make their family suffer for it. She has to do this. Madge takes a steadying breath but it doesn’t steady her. _Do it, just do it. Do it do it do it_

Gale seizes her wrist.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demands and she feels as raw and shattered as he sounds. She swallows and it’s so hard to make words. 

“Will you do it?”

“Madge,” he pleads, his fingers tightening painfully on her skin.

“Will you kill me?” she asks and he yanks her into his chest instead of answering. He doesn’t let go of her wrist and his other arm wraps around her waist and holds her painfully close. She inhales him, sinks into the feel of him and she is so scared. The tears are hot on her cheeks, his grip hurts and she wants to wake up safe at home. Except she’s never going home. 

“I can’t,” he chokes out and she trembles so badly she’s sure her legs are about to fold up beneath her. 

“One of us...one of us has to,” she forces out of her injured throat and he buries his face in her hair. “I can’t...I can’t kill you. So this is the only option right?”

She wants him to say no, she wants there to be another way. She wants to live. There isn’t another way, she knows that, but she’s just so afraid. Her free hand clutches his jumpsuit and she really wishes he’d do it so she doesn’t have to. She’s going to die for him, can’t he at least do this for her?

“Fuck ‘em,” he hisses suddenly in her ear and her eye opens in surprise. “Fuck ‘em. I’m not going to let you die for me. I can’t. I can’t go home without you. So fuck ‘em. I’m not playing by their rules this time.”

Madge can’t breathe and he takes two of the berries from her hand. She pulls back to look at him and he pushes his forehead against hers. 

“They want a victor? Too bad. I can’t win this if you’re dead. They’ve owned me my whole life, they don’t get to decide how I die. Fuck ‘em,” he breathes so quietly she knows she’s the only one who’s heard. His eyes burn, burn her alive and maybe, just maybe she is brave. Fire curls through her blood and she nods.

“Fuck ‘em,” she whispers. The Capitol doesn’t deserve her surrender. They’ll get her death just like they wanted, but not how they wanted it. 

If this is the end, then fuck the Capitol.

* * *

She always knew she was going to die, but she never expected it to happen with Gale Hawthorne’s arm around her waist and his silver eyes locked on hers. She holds his gaze and knots her fingers through his hair. 

“We go together,” he says and she nods.

“Together.”

“One,” he says and the only thing in all the world is Gale. 

“Two,” he says and his arm tightens around her waist.

“Three,” he says and she brings the berries to her lips. 

“Congratulations to the Victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games!” Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms in every direction and Madge freezes, poisoned fruit pressed against her mouth. Gale’s eyes are wide as they stare into hers, his own berries just brushing his teeth.

“Your victors, Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee of District 12!” 

Gale spits the fruit from his mouth and Madge throws hers aside, her heart screeching in her chest. 

“We won,” she says and the words shake on her tongue. His eyes are bright like the stars and she flings her arms around him, her hands in his hair and her face pressed into his neck. “We won,” she sobs, “we’re going home.”

A hovercraft whirs nearby and Gale’s arms come around her so tight it’s like he’s trying to meld them into one person. He buries his face in her shoulder and she cries into his skin. His bad leg gives out beneath him and they fall together, “we won, we won, we won,” tumbling from her lips. Gale quivers in her arms, her side aches, her foot throbs and she cannot stop saying it.

“We’re going home.”

* * *

And there’s power pounding inside her too, power because she’d fully expected to die, fully expected to go down in defiance and yet, and yet, she’s still alive. She and Gale had looked the Capitol dead in the eye and said _we won’t play your game anymore_ and the Capitol blinked and said, _fine, we’ll play yours_. All her life she’s been taught that standing up to the Capitol is pointless, hopeless, doomed.

Right here, right now, she realizes that’s not true. The Capitol isn’t so strong after all.

For the first time in so long, Madge feels hope in her blood.

(and so does the rest of Panem)

* * *

She doesn’t let go of Gale until they make her. 

Peacekeepers come to take them away in the hovercraft, their gloved hands hauling them to their feet. Madge holds onto Gale and he to her, even as the peacekeepers try to pull them apart. Her nails dig marks into his skin and his grip bruises hers, but they won’t let go. 

And then something sharp pokes her in the neck and there’s nothing at all.

* * *

The sun is bright on reaping day and Madge stands on stage, Gale’s fingers tangled in hers. Except he hadn’t held her hand on reaping day, had he? She turns to look at him, but his eyes are on the crowd. There’s a long, thin scar stretching down his cheek and Effie claps and claps, the rings on her fingers clack clack clacking together. 

“Your victors!” she cheers and Madge tilts her head. Victors? But they haven’t even made it to the games yet. Gale squeezes her hand and the golden bird in Effie’s hair blinks it’s glittering eyes.

“You wanted us to burn and now we might,” it says in a high, echoing voice. “But remember, if we burn, we’ll do everything we can to make sure you burn too.”

* * *

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve made feet before, right?”

Madge comes slowly to consciousness, her brain sluggish.

“Yeah, feet. Never just toes. I’m not sure it’ll work. And even if it does, you’ll be able to tell they’re not real.”

It’s like being stuck in the mud and trying to drag herself out. Her eyelids are heavy, her thoughts sticky and faraway voices drift towards her.

“That’s fine, who’s going to see them close up? We just need something there. She’s supposed to be our pretty star-crossed lover. Missing toes aren’t pretty.”

“Right, I’ll do my best.”

There’s a metallic taste on her tongue and finally she opens her eyes. Everything is white, a sterile kind of white and machines hum and beep steadily around her. She’s in a bed and stuck with tubes, her slow mind putting the pieces together one by one. She’s in a hospital room. A Capitol hospital room. They really did win.

“Gale?” she croaks with a dry throat. She looks around but her room is empty. He isn’t here and even as whatever they’d used to knock her out continues to slide through her, her heart starts to quicken. Is he alright? He has to be, they’d won. They’re going home. Together. They did this together. Her stomach starts to boil and they can’t have punished him without punishing her, right? They’d planned to take those berries together. They’re in this together. 

The beeping around her grows more frantic and he has to be okay, he has to be. She wants to get out of bed and find him, she wants to scream until someone hears and tells her where he is. Her chest hurts and suddenly, she isn’t alone. Capitol nurses come streaming in and check her beeping machines, frowns on their faces. 

“Gale. Where’s Gale?” she rasps but they ignore her. They push buttons, twist tubes and everything starts to go dark.

“Ga...le…” she tries to say and someone pats her arm.

“It’s okay, you’re fine. You won.”

_But where’s Gale?_

* * *

Clove chokes her, her fingers digging into the skin of Madge's neck and cutting off all her air. She can’t breathe, she can’t move but then suddenly she’s watching Cato strangle Gale and this time she doesn’t save him. This time he falls limp beneath Cato’s hands and Madge would scream but can’t. Red snow falls from the sky and the girl from Eleven weeps over the hole in her chest. Clove is still on top of her and she laughs, her dark eyes bright.

“Looks like your boyfriend’s dead, but don’t worry. You’ll be together again soon.”

* * *

When Madge opens her eyes again, she realizes she can see.

It takes her a moment as the grogginess of the drugs wears off, but then she realizes it. She can see in both eyes, not just her right. Her left eye is working. In the arena she’d started to accept that she’d be blind in that eye forever, but she isn’t. She can see. That should matter more than it does, but there’s only thing she can think about right now. 

Gale. 

She struggles to sit up and he still isn’t here. There are tears on her cheeks and where is he? Is he okay? He’s just in a different room, right? She closes her eyes and knows she can’t panic, that’ll just get her knocked out again but it’s so hard to stay calm. She tries to steady her breathing and she just needs to know he’s alright, that they really are going home together. _Please, someone tell me he’s okay._

But there’s no one to ask and she sits in her bed with the silence screaming in her ears. They’d defied the Capitol together, they can’t have punished only him. He’s fine, he’s just somewhere else. They’d won and...and she remembers the conversation she’d heard when she first woke up, _She’s supposed to be our pretty star-crossed lover_. That means he’s okay right? If they’re playing up the romance, it’s because he’s still around, right? 

(except she knows it might mean he’s dead and she’ll get to play the grieving lover, but she can’t let herself think of that)

He’s okay, they’re both okay, they’re going home. She repeats it to herself over and over and over again until it’s written into every bone of her skull. He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay okay okay. 

_We’re going home._

_Together._

* * *

Later, much later, she remembers the rest of that conversation she’d overheard, _missing toes aren’t pretty_. Her eyes widen, her heart pounds and she tugs at the blankets, tugs and tugs until they untuck and she can uncover her left foot. It’s the right colour again, but she...she’s missing two toes. Her third and fourth toes are just...gone. There’s just a space where they should be, an empty space. Madge can’t look anymore and covers her foot back up as her stomach starts to roil. She brings her hand up to her mouth and realizes that under all the bandages, the swelling on her fingers has gone down significantly. She can bend them, wiggle them, grip things. Her head’s bandaged too and so is her side, but the pain she is so used to feeling is but a dull, distant throb. 

They’ve patched her up, far better than she ever imagined they could, but she feels no joy or relief or even wonder. They could do so much good for the districts with his technology but they won’t. They’ll fix her up after tossing her into that arena to die, but they won’t mend sick children or mutilated adults. 

Her tears this time are angry.

_fuck ‘em, fuck ‘em, fuck ‘em_

* * *

Doctors and nurses come in to check on her, to change her bandages but never to speak to her. They ask no questions, they consult each other but never her and her opinion clearly has no weight here.

But then, she already knew that.

* * *

Haymitch comes to see her before she’s released.

“Can’t believe you made it, princess,” he says and she cringes. She’s heard that nickname before and it’s only ever come soaked in disdain. He pulls up a chair, sits beside her bed and she lets out the question she’s been desperate to ask since she'd woken up.

“Gale?”

“Fine. Well, beat up like you, but he’ll be alright,” Haymitch says and pats her arm. Madge sinks back into her pillows with her hands pressed to her heart.

“Thank goodness. Oh, thank goodness,” she says and there are tears dripping onto her hands. Haymitch pats her arm again.

“I never realized how much he meant to you. But you must really, really love him.” There’s something in the way he says it that makes her look at him. His face is serious and she feels anxiety start to wiggle within her. Haymitch leans in very close, so close his lips nearly brush her ear as he whispers.

“They need to believe that, you need to make them believe it. Love is all it was.”

He pulls away and Madge feels sudden fire in her stomach. She knows what he’s really saying. The Capitol’s angry, they saw that act of rebellion for what it was and if she doesn’t want her family to die, she has to convince the world she’s nothing but a silly girl in love. She wants to scream. 

“I’m sure he’s desperate to see you,” Haymitch continues and he’s speaking for the microphones no doubt hidden all over the room. Madge doesn’t want to lie, she wants to tear the Capitol down with her own two hands. But she doesn’t want her family to die either. She can’t have both and again, a scream builds in her lungs. Haymitch leans in close again, his fingers tight on her arm.

“Not yet. Later.”

The words are so quiet she barely hears them and her eyes widen. Not yet. Later. She can’t ask exactly what that means, but she has an idea. 

Maybe, just maybe, she won’t have to choose at all.

(that thought is terrifying)

(but also...exhilarating)

* * *

In the end they do give her two fake toes. 

They look almost real, but up close it’s obvious they’re not really her toes. They’re fake and they have no feeling, no matter how hard she jabs and pokes at them. The texture isn't quite like skin and she can’t move them; when she curls her toes the other three go down but those two stay standing at attention.

On one hand, it’s less disturbing than seeing the empty space where her toes should be. On the other hand, it’s far, far more disturbing to have Capitol toes on her foot.

* * *

Agrippa readies her for her victory interview.

“You’ve made me famous, you know,” he says as his team curls the ends of her hair. “Everyone wants to hire Madge the triumphant lover’s stylist.”

Madge feels her cheeks burn. That’s not a nickname she wants to be known by. His team pulls her hair back from her face and secures it with pale pink ribbons. Agrippa puts a long finger under her chin and looks down at her.

“And you know, I was wrong. It’s better that you’re just pretty instead of beautiful. It makes my talents much more evident.”

Madge doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t need her to. As far as Agrippa’s concerned, she’s just a stepping stone to greater things.

If the Capitol does burn, she won’t cry if he burns with it.

* * *

Madge waits just off stage in a sweet pink dress made of delicate, floaty material. Her make-up is soft and her shoes are silk slippers tied with bows at the back of her knees. She doesn’t look dangerous or rebellious. She’s innocent and pretty and in love. Agrippa’s done a good job, but he always does.

It’s almost time and Haymitch shuffles up beside her.

“I have something for you,” he says and reaches into his pocket. Her eyes widen as he pulls out her pin. It sparkles gold in the lights and she’d thought she’d lost it forever.

“But...it was on my jacket…”

Haymitch shrugs and pins it over her heart. “I pulled a few strings. I thought our victor deserved her token.”

Madge presses her fingers to the metal and they’re both the mockingjay.

The Capitol won’t beat them.

* * *

Caesar’s voice is loud and buoyant as he announces “And now your victors, from District Twelve: Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee!”

A tidal wave of sound rises from the audience, clapping and screaming and whistling and stamping and hollering, the lights are so hot they burn as she steps out on stage and Madge only has eyes for Gale. He stands across from her, all in white that shines and he’s alive. He’s alive, he’s here and her hands jump up to her mouth. Caesar is talking but Madge doesn’t hear and she can barely see as the tears blur her vision, but she keeps her eyes on Gale. He’s alive, he’s here, they’re really going home. Together.

Who moves first? It doesn’t matter. Madge nearly runs across the stage to him as he limps towards her and she can’t be sure if she loses her balance because she has two fake toes or because she’s convinced herself she should be having trouble walking with two fake toes, but either way, she trips at dead center stage. She never hits the ground. Gale catches her, he pulls her up and then she’s in his arms, pressed to his chest and drowning in the smell of him. They’ve bathed him in rose scented perfume, but under it all she can taste apples and winter and the woods. 

“I love you,” she sobs as she clings to him and she does. Not in any specific way, not as friend or brother or lover, but as Gale. Prideful, angry, sweet, thoughtful, noble Gale, funny, honest, loyal, stubborn, brave Gale. His smile, his fingers and his laugh, the ways his arms feel around her and the sound of his voice. His love for his family, for Katniss, even the silly way he'd thought she was a ghost who'd eat him. His faults, his qualities and the night sky shining in his eyes. All of him, every inch inside and out, she loves him. She loves him and they're both going home. They won and she clutches him so tight her arms ache. Gale holds her just as close, his lips on her hair and his warmth wrapping her up like a blanket in the cold. She never wants to move, she just wants to stay and breathe him in forever. 

“Madge,” he whispers and there’s something unfathomable in the way he says it, something that shakes her spine beneath her skin. 

“Young love!” Caesar calls to the adoring audience and she doesn’t want to playact Panem’s greatest romance. She wants to stay where she is, she wants to hold Gale and never let go, she wants to press her palm to his chest and feel every beat of his heart. But this isn’t about her. This is about the people she loves, the people she needs to keep safe and she pulls back even though it hurts to. Gale cradles her face like he did that very first kiss right here on this very stage and just like then, her breath stutters on its way out. She tilts her head up, Caesar says something that has the audience shrieking with laughter and Gale kisses her.

Last time they were here, his kiss had been sweet and soft, his lips brushing hers and heating her cheeks. This time his kiss is deep and desperate and it engulfs her. There are so many things they can’t say, not with the Capitol listening in, but she can hear it all as his mouth moves with hers. The terror, the relief, the gratitude and desperation and uncertainty and anger, she feels it all, feels it pounding in his blood and hers. Her fingers curl in his hair, salt tingles on her tongue and he tugs her in, tugs her in so near he might be swallowing her whole. 

“Your lethal lovers, ladies and gentlemen!” Caesar declares and they aren’t. They aren’t and she doesn’t know what they are, but she doesn’t care. 

He’s here, she’s here and they’re going home. Together.

* * *

They sit side by side on the too plump couch, Gale’s arm around her waist and her fingers clutching his. Caesar smiles wide, friendly and he’s poison, they all are.

“Let’s have a look back at your phenomenal games, shall we?” he asks like they have a choice and her hand tightens on Gale’s. She doesn’t want to see this but she smiles as brightly as she can instead, tries to ignore the eager eyes smiling back from so many Capitol faces. The game’s still on, they haven’t won just yet and Gale nods stiffly. Caesar smiles like the snake he is and Madge has to watch, has to keep her eyes on the screen even as she wants to curl up and hide from what she’s being shown. This is her greatest nightmare played back over again but the audience loves it, is already shrieking and cheering as their reaping’s shown. Madge matches their reactions, lets them guide her through what they want her to feel. She gasps with them, sighs, swoons and smiles, follows their cues and acts just the ways she’s supposed to. Gale is tense beside her, his anger scalding her side and as much as she wants to burn too, she knows tonight’s not the night. Tonight, she’ll be what they want her to be. Tonight she’s the Capitol’s darling and nothing else.

Tomorrow...well that’s tomorrow.

* * *

They’re much better actors that she ever would've guessed.

She watches them on screen and it looks so real, so very, very real. The kisses, the smiles, the hugs and snuggles and soft touching of hands, it’s more convincing than she ever would’ve hoped. 

If she didn’t know any better, she’d believe the love story too.

* * *

Their families paint them in valiant colours, make them heroes even though Madge feels like anything but. 

Her father is tearful and stumbling, but his voice is soft with love as he speaks of her and Hazelle Hawthorne is strong with her words even as her eyes glitter. Rory shines with his confidence in Gale, his faith steady and unyielding. Vick and Posy are breathless with their praise, their voices overflowing with awe and love and certainty. Gale’s fingers twitch in hers and for a moment at least, she forgets about the audience. She throbs so terribly for home and then it’s Katniss’ turn.

Her interview is last and there’s hunger in Gale’s gaze as he drinks her in. Madge's stomach bubbles and Katniss is uncomfortable in front of the camera, so very uncomfortable. Her posture’s stiff, her eyes dart nervously in every direction and Madge wishes she could reach through the screen and hold her. She’s missed Katniss, believed she’d never see her again and here she is. 

Katniss _is_ uncomfortable, but her voice is steady when she talks of Gale, of his courage and his strengths. She makes him sound like a giant. The audience loves it, they swoon for Gale, their favourite romantic hero, but it’s her closing line about him that makes the biggest impact. 

(to Madge and Gale at least)

“If there’s anyone I believe in, it’s my cousin Gale,” Katniss says in an odd voice and Madge feels ice tumble over her head. Cousin. Gale flinches and of course. Madge and Gale are supposed to be true true love, him being so close to another girl might give people ideas. And they’d be right wouldn't they? He is in love with Katniss, Madge is...Madge is something else and she’s not sure why her stomach hurts so much. 

“Madge is quiet, but she’s clever,” Katniss continues and Madge widens her eyes. “She may not be the flashiest tribute, but she’s a hard worker, she’s smart, steady, level headed and I know she can do this.”

The audience cheers for her and Madge forgets about copying their reactions. She cries instead.

* * *

Clove takes her last shuddering breath and Madge crumbles on the inside, smiles with pride on the outside.

Just a brave little Capitol hero so pleased with the blood staining her hands.

* * *

And finally the grand finale. 

Madge knows what’s coming and she can’t watch this, she can’t live it again, but it works. It makes everyone believe in love as she flings her arms around Gale and presses her face against his heart. He holds her, the audience screams as they win and it’s over, finally it’s over. 

“Are you alright?” Caesar asks and Madge pulls away from Gale. She wipes at her eyes and smiles.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Just...just the thought that I could have lost him…” she trails off and everyone in the audience has tears of their own now. Caesar pats her knee and her skin curls.

“It’s perfectly alright. I can’t even imagine how awful that must have been for you.”

“It was the worst moment of my life.” She turns to look at Gale, gazing up at him with what she hopes is love and devotion. “He’s my life, he’s everything to me. I could never go home without him.”

The audience sighs, swoons, sniffles and she can see the anger burning in Gale’s eyes as they stare at each other. She hopes he can see hers too. 

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” Caesar laughs and Madge looks down bashfully. If only she could make herself blush.

“I have so many questions after that amazing recap, so let’s get started,” Caesar says, Madge smiles and Gale tries to. They’ll do what they have to, they’ll lie lie lie, at least today.

One day, hopefully, they won’t have to anymore.

* * *

Madge grips Gale’s hand as President Snow places the golden victor’s crown on her head. Her heart thuds and Snow smiles at her with very red lips.

“Congratulations on your victory,” he says and his dark eyes glitter.

Madge doesn’t say thank you.

* * *

“Your victors, Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne!” Caesar says one last time and they stand, their hands still knotted together. The audience follows them off stage with their shouts and screams and cheers and Effie and Haymitch are waiting for them.

“Oh my victors, my victors!” Effie says tearfully as they reach her and pulls them both into a hug. Gale stiffens, Madge recoils and all she wants to shout is, _I’m not yours!_

Except, for now at least, she is.

* * *

They board the train for home and Effie still can’t stop fawning over them.

“My brave little victors,” she coos and Gale’s eyes flash. “I’m just so happy for you. True love always prevails.”

Haymitch rolls his eyes behind her back and Madge wonders if Effie is really so enamoured of their love story, or of the fact that she is now the only escort in history to have both their tributes come home. Honestly, it’s probably both. The Capitol’s like that.

“You can’t believe how many people have asked me to meet you! You must be the most sought after victors in the games’ history!” Effie nearly squeals and Gale, who’s done an admirable job of keeping his mouth shut, looks about ready to boil over. Haymitch stands and taps Effie on the shoulder.

“Speaking of romance, why don’t we give the lovers a little time alone? They haven’t had the chance since the arena,” he says and Effie pouts. Madge shoots her a hopeful, pleading look and Effie deflates.

“Oh alright. But!” she says and points an accusing finger at Gale, “Nothing untoward!” Haymitch looks at the ceiling in exasperation, Madge’s cheeks burn and Gale flares with offense. Madge can understand why. Effie’s not warning her about doing something, just him. She touches his arm and Haymitch takes Effie by both shoulders and practically shoves her out the door. 

“She’s right, keep it safe,” he tells them and Madge knows he’s not really talking about them doing anything physical. He’s warning them against the microphones no doubt littered all over the room. He sighs and mutters to himself “I really need a drink” and then he’s gone and they’re alone. 

The quiet is heavy. 

“I have two fake toes,” she blurts to muzzle the silence. Gale blinks at her.

“Huh?”

Madge takes off her shoe, her sock and then sticks out her foot. She curls the three toes that can, the other two sticking up. “They had to take them off. Frostbite. And now I have two fake toes. I can’t feel them or move them.”

Gale stares at those Capitol toes for a long moment and then tugs up his left pant leg. There’s a scar on his skin, thin and pale. Clove has left her mark.

“They say the knife chipped my bone. They didn’t actually tell me if they fixed it though. Is it still chipped? Is the bone bit just floating around in there? I have no idea. They also told me it might still hurt sometimes, but not why or when. I guess I’ll find out.”

Madge bites her lip and pulls up her dress until she can show him her side. She feels embers beneath her skin when he looks at her.

“The cut used to be a lot bigger, but it’s such a small scar. I wonder if they did that on purpose. A big one wouldn’t be pretty enough, but they wouldn’t want it totally gone. I got this saving you, it’s romantic. I’m sure Agrippa will give me lots of clothes that show it off.”

Gale stares at her scar with thunder in his eyes. His fingers ghost across her skin and for a moment, she’s sure she knows what it feels like to be struck by lightning. He doesn’t take his eyes off her wound, but he pushes up his right sleeve to show her his arm. The skin isn’t burnt any more, it’s oddly shiny and paler than the rest. She frowns. 

“They gave me...I think they called it a skin graft. I was too burned for it to ever heal, though they told me if it hadn’t been for you rubbing that paste on it, the nerves probably would’ve been ruined too.”

“Is it fake skin?” she asks and hates the way that sounds. He shakes his head.

“It’s from my ass.”

She stares at him. “What?”

Gale makes a face. “They told me they took skin from my ass and put it on my arm. I guess there’s a lot of extra back there. So now I have ass arm.”

Madge doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead she says “I can see out of my left eye again. Well, mostly. I can’t see long distances and if I try and focus too hard it gives me a headache, but still, it works again. I thought I’d be blind in that eye.”

She almost smiles and Gale nods. He almost smiles too and gestures at the scar on his cheek. “They left it. I guess they agreed with you.”

Madge doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but her fingertip traces the mark softly. It burns. “You are very dashing,” she promises and they just look at each other, his gaze a night sky she is easily lost in. Something coils within her and she drops her head.

“What a pair we make,” she says with an odd little laugh. His fingers skim hers.

“Yeah.”

* * *

They step off the train in Twelve and there’s a crowd waiting to greet them.

A district full of people she doesn’t know cheer and clap and whistle, surprise and joy and awe colouring all their faces. District Twelve is so used to losing and losing and losing, but this time they’d won not once, but twice. It’s a miracle and amid the jubilation, there are surely cameras broadcasting this triumphant homecoming to everyone in Panem. 

Gale’s arm slides around her, his hand rests on her hip, and she leans into his side. They smile, they wave and Twelve comes alive for the first time in so long. It’s been years and years, but finally, their children haven’t been carted off to die. 

This time they’ve come home.

* * *

They step into the crowd hand in hand and Madge wonders if this is what it feels like to be adrift at sea. There are people everywhere, unfamiliar eyes are heavy on her skin and yet, she feels lonelier than ever. Everywhere she looks there are faces looking back and she bobs on uncertain waves, Gale’s hand the only real thing in the world. She’d finally come back, but maybe she hasn’t. This is home, it’s supposed to be home, but the Madge standing here isn’t the Madge that left.

“Madge.”

She turns and this time the face looking back is her dad’s. For a moment at least, the water’s not so rough after all.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says and her eyes blur, her legs shake and she covers her mouth with her hands. Her dad smiles with teary eyes and she’d dreamed of this for so long, but now it’s finally real. He’s here, she’s here and when he holds out his arms to her, Madge falls into them. His grip’s so tight it hurts and she’d been so afraid she’d never have this again, but he’s here. He’s here and she never wants to move.

“I love you,” he says and his voice is thick with all the emotion she can feel throbbing in her chest. She wants to say it back but can’t make words, so she clings to him all the more. “I love you so much. My Madge, my Madge, I love you so much.”

 _I love you too_ , she wants to say, _I love you and I missed you and don’t ever let me go._

She’s too old now to believe her dad can protect her from everything, but right now, she pretends he can. Right now, she lets herself pretend she’s safe.

* * *

Hazelle Hawthorne hugs her next and Madge stiffens with wide eyes.

“Thank you,” Gale’s mother whispers fiercely and Madge doesn’t know what to say or do. Her heart shakes and she can hear her father say the same to Gale, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” tripping off his tongue. Madge’s breath hitches and Hazelle’s arms are strong but warm, her embrace an anchor in the waves. She doesn’t want to cry but there are sudden tears in her eyes and then the other Hawthornes are there, a tangle of limbs around her and a chorus of joyful voices.

“Welcome home!” Posy squeals as she clings to Madge’s leg and “You were amazing!” Vick breathes in awe as he tucks into her side. Rory’s hug is brief but firm and his voice is shy in her ear.

“Thanks for helping him come home,” he whispers and Madge finds her arms swallowing all three of them. 

The water’s still choppy, but she feels steadier now. Maybe she won’t capsize after all.

* * *

There are tears on her cheeks and then Katniss stands before her with nervous eyes and strain in her smile. Still, her arms are strong and Madge sinks into them.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Katniss says and _me too. Me too_.

* * *

Their houses in Victor’s Village aren’t ready yet, so for today, Madge gets to go home.

Home is the hope she’d kept in her heart, home is the beacon that had pulled her onward and yet, going home also means goodbye. Madge watches Gale as his family and friends crowd around him and she knows things are different now, she knows goodbye now isn’t like saying goodbye in the arena but for some reason, she’s still afraid. She isn’t in the games anymore, they’re home, they won and goodbye doesn’t mean she’ll never see him again, goodbye doesn’t mean either one of them has to die. She knows that, she does, but maybe she hasn’t really come home yet.

Maybe part of her’s still there, maybe it always will be. Maybe nowhere in Panem’s really safe.

* * *

Goodbye is a tearful kiss for the cameras and sweet “I love you”s passed between them. Goodbye is his hands in her hair, hers on his hips and a promise he murmurs to her ear.

_“I’ll see you soon.”_

There's a fire in her chest, a fire in his and Haymitch’s _later_ echoes between them. They burn together.

* * *

She shakes when her house comes into view, her eyes sting as she looks up at it and Merrie is waiting for her, Mrs Sparrowsaw is waiting for her, her mom is waiting for her. She opens her arms and Madge walks into them, the sore on her heart ceasing to throb for just a moment. Her mom strokes her hair, her dad holds them both and _I’m home. I’m finally home_.

“Oh Madge, oh sweetheart I knew you’d come back, I knew you would,” her mom says and Madge can’t speak through the tears.

“I love you, I love you my sweet sunshine,” and if she could talk she’d say _I love you too, Mama, I love you love you love you_.

(and if, just once, her mom whispers _oh Maysilee I knew you’d come home_ , Madge doesn’t say anything)

(she understands now just how powerful ghosts can be)

* * *

Madge sleeps in her own bed for the first time in so long and...and she cries. 

These are her pillows, her blankets, her sheets, her stuffed lamb in the purple overalls and she can’t stop crying.

She cries and cries and cries.

* * *

She’s a victor but the world hasn’t ended or changed, everything still happens like any other summer day. Her mom stays in bed, her dad goes to work and Madge sits alone and plays the piano.

When she was very, very tiny, before she realized just how awful everything in Panem was, she used to dream of playing piano in the Capitol. Concert halls would fill up for her, the greatest people in Panem would cheer her on and even the president would thrill at her music. In the glitter and the lights and the magic of that far off place, Madge would be a star.

Funny how that dream is her nightmare now.

This is the one thing she is supposed to be good at, that she’s ever been good at, but her fingers are clumsy today. Her hands don’t dance over the keys, they trip and she winces at the ugly sounds. This isn’t right. She stops playing, she tucks her awful fingers in her lap and closes her eyes. 

This used to be her favourite place in the world and now she feels like a stranger.

* * *

Madge opens her eyes and they stare at the window on the back wall. Haymitch Abernathy stares back.

He peeks through the glass and she gapes at him. What is he doing here? She stands too fast and the piano bench almost tips over. He can’t be here. If her mom sees him...she can’t let that happen. He nods in acknowledgement and Madge hurries to the door. She opens it as quietly as she can, she squeezes outside and has to resist the urge to shove Haymitch off her porch. Her mom is delicate and she’s never forgiven Haymitch for coming home when her sister didn’t. She never will. She can’t see him.

“What are you doing here?” Madge hisses and just beyond her fence stands Gale with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He is sullen and frowning, his storm cloud eyes boring a hole in the ground.

“Let’s take a walk,” Haymitch says.

* * *

They walk through Twelve in silence, eyes following them down every road. Three victors in a district that is so used to one and she finds herself missing when everyone used to look anywhere but at her. Gale is stiff and tense beside her and without even thinking about it, she steps in close and touches his arm. But they’re not in the Games anymore and she can’t just touch him, he probably doesn’t even want her to, but before she can pull away, he moves a little nearer and matches his pace with hers. Her heart does something stupid and her fingers curl in his sleeve. His shoulder brushes hers. 

Haymitch leads them out to the meadow and there’s no one here, no one but the three of them and the something Haymitch must want to say with no witnesses. He faces them and Gale snorts.

“Are we allowed to talk now?” he bites out and Haymitch sighs.

“See, this is why I like her better. She doesn’t question everything I say, she just listens. And she’s not nearly so belligerent.”

Gale sneers and Madge squeezes his arm. Haymitch runs a twitching hand through his messy hair and then folds his arms across his chest. He looks at them with shrewd eyes and she’s sure he’s sizing them up, but for what?

“Snow thinks your stunt with the berries was an act of rebellion. He thinks you meant it as a fuck you to the Capitol. And you did, didn’t you?” Haymitch asks and Gale stands as tall as he can, towers over both of them.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, defiant and burning. “They take everything from us, they always do, they always will. But not this time. I wasn’t going to let Madge die for me.”

“And I wasn’t going to let him die for me,” she says because this wasn’t just Gale’s decision. It was hers too. Haymitch looks at them and there’s a light in his stone gray eyes. 

“So you decided to both die instead?”

“We decided that they don’t get to win this time,” Gale says and Madge nods.

“We decided that if we have to die, we die on our terms,” she explains and that light in Haymitch’s eyes grows. “They want a victor?”

“Too bad,” Gale finishes and Haymitch nods. That light’s brighter now, his eyes the soft gray of morning doves. 

“Admirable,” he offers and Gale stiffens. “But you should know, Snow thinks there was more to it than that. He thinks you want a revolution.”

Madge’s insides quiver. Having the words actually out there is both thrilling and frightening all at once. Revolution. That's whats she wants, isn't it? Fuck the Capitol, burn them to the ground but...but if they do, people are going to die, aren't they? Good people, innocent people but she can't have both. It’s either revolution or nothing and now’s the time to choose. Haymitch’s gaze is thoughtful as he sweeps it over them.

“I think you do too. I think you didn’t mean to start a revolt when you chose to take those berries, but I also think you’re not sorry you have started one,” he says and the world spins into stillness.

“We started a revolution?” she asks at the same time Gale snaps “No, I’m not.”

Haymitch looks at her when he answers. “Started might not be the right word. Rebellion’s been simmering in the Districts ever since we lost the war, but when people all across the country saw what you did, they took it as a rallying cry. The two of you defied them and got away with it; suddenly all the whispers and plans seem possible. There’s been riots and strikes, but the two of you have become symbols now. You’ve made everyone feel brave and inspired. They needed a push and you gave it to them.”

Madge swallows and doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if there is anything to say. She hates the Capitol, she wants them to burn but it won’t be easy. They’d lost last time, people she loves are going to die if they try again and fear slithers into her chest.

“But you need to be more careful,” Haymitch continues and her eyes widen. “You were lucky, but you won’t be again.”

“Lucky?” Gale snarls and Haymitch’s eyes are dark as he looks at them.

“Yes, lucky. Do you know what usually happens to people who win in ways the Capitol doesn’t like? Their whole family ends up dead.” Haymitch’s voice has a sharp sharp edge and Madge’s breath hitches. Gale tenses beside her. 

“You got lucky because the head gamemaker decided to let you both win instead of shooting one of you dead and calling it a day. You got lucky because instead of punishing you for rebelling, they’ve decided to pretend you never rebelled at all. You got lucky because your families are still safe and breathing. You got lucky, but you won’t again. Snow will make sure of it.”

Madge is cold, cold like winter has suddenly come and slipped inside her veins. She doesn’t want to play nice, she doesn’t want to do as the Capitol tells her, but this isn’t just about her. Fuck the Capitol, but what about the people she loves? She hadn’t stopped to think what might happen to her family when she’d planned to take those berries with Gale, she can’t let that happen again.

Gale snorts like an angry horse. “So what? You want us to just go along and be their perfect victors? Well, I _won’t_. I’ve had enough of playing by their rules and letting them drive us all into the ground. I did what you wanted in the Capitol, but I’m done playing nice. You promised later.”

“I did,” Haymitch agrees and his eyes are calculating as he takes them in. “And that’s why you need to be smart. If all you want is to set a fire and die in a pointless blaze of glory, then fine, go ahead and stand on the roof of the Justice Building howling about how terrible Snow is. But if you want to actually make a difference and change things? You need to use your head.”

Madge inhales deeply and Gale chews on his words. Haymitch nods.

“Revolution, if that’s what you really want-”

“It is,” Gale interrupts and Haymitch nods again.

“Then you’ll need all the districts. One will never be enough to take the Capitol down. Stir up one district and Snow will just burn it and everyone in it to the ground. They ended the war last time by wiping Thirteen off the map, they’ll do it again.”

He’s right, of course he’s right, and Madge feels her insides shake. Gale narrows his eyes.

“So what’s your big plan?” he asks and Madge squeezes his arm. 

“You lie low for the next six months, you dazzle everyone with Panem’s perfect love affair and you do everything the Capitol asks you to. You convince Snow you’re not a threat and you’re willing to do as you're told.”

“And in six months?” she asks and Haymitch’s smile is grim.

“In six months it’s your Victory Tour. In six months, you get all of Panem as your audience. That’s when you can make a difference.”

“And then what?” Gale demands, his voice a mixed up mess of frustration and eagerness. Haymitch shakes his head.

“The less you know for now, the better. No,” he says when Gale opens his mouth to protest, “this isn’t up for debate. There are a lot of people involved in this, a lot riding on this and we can’t afford any mistakes. If the Capitol gets wind of this, the less you know, the better for all of us.”

“So there are rebels out there? Like organized rebels?” she breathes and Haymitch looks at her for a long moment before he answers.

“There always has been. That’s the thing about a place like Panem, people are always angry.”

Madge releases a shaky breath and Haymitch rubs at his jaw. He pins them both with serious eyes.

“But before you agree to this, you need to know the cost,” he starts and holds up a hand to forestall Gale’s interruption. “You’re young and you’re angry and you have every right to be. But you need to understand that revolution doesn’t come cheap. It might cost you your life, maybe your family’s lives, your friends, your home, your freedom, or who knows what else. You have to be willing to risk all of it, because if you commit to this, there’s no turning back. Once you’re in, Snow won’t let you back out. So, are you willing to risk all that for a chance at bringing down the Capitol?”

“There’s no choice” Gale says, his voice like late-night thunder. “If we don’t do anything, it never ends. The Capitol keeps taking and taking until we have nothing left. I’m done letting them ruin us, it's time to fight back. I’m not going to pay with my family’s lives, because I’m not going to let Snow have them,” he swears and Madge isn’t sure she could look away even if she tried. “We have an opportunity here, and I’m going to take it. It’s time the Capitol were the scared ones.”

Haymitch nods slowly and moves his gaze to her. “And what about you?”

Madge is scared too, she can’t deny that, but if she doesn’t fight back, she’ll always be scared. If she ever wants to feel safe, there’s only one choice. The Capitol’s done so many horrible, evil things, she can’t let them get away with it. She’d been right all those days ago on the train, they deserve better, everyone in Panem deserves better. She doesn't want anything to happen to her family, she doesn’t want to risk them, but if she does this, it’s for them too. It’s so they can be safe and happy in ways they never could be here. She’s scared, but she’ll be brave. There’s a fire in her too and it won’t smolder anymore. It’s time to let it burn.

“I’m in,” she says and Gale’s eyes meet hers. “Fuck ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to read this story, I hope you liked it! Can you believe I intended this to be a a 10,000~ word one-shot? Whoops. This is the first story in a trilogy, I'm hoping to start posting the next one in late August, stay tuned! :)


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